


Beauty and Grace

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Developing Relationships, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Miss Congeniality AU, more doughnuts than you can shake a stick at
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 63,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8567605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: A Miss Congeniality AU. When FBI Agent Emma Swan is chosen to go undercover at the Miss Fairytale USA pageant, she thinks she's in for a nightmare week of bikinis, fake smiles, and a bunch of fellow contestants with a collective IQ of six-and-a-half. Her friend and partner Neal is determined to make sure Emma survives this assignment by hook or by crook, including buying doughnuts at three in the morning. But as Emma works to catch the terrorist who has threatened the pageant, she learns more about her fellow contestants and indeed herself. As the crowning ceremony draws ever closer, friends are made, and friends that were already made become something more... Swanfire with side-pair rumbelle.





	1. Chapter 1

**One**

“Hey.”

A take-out coffee cup and a grease-stained paper bag from the doughnut place came floating into Emma’s line of vision as she sat on the back door step of the Russian restaurant that her team had spent the majority of the evening staking out, staring grimly into the middle distance as she heard the wailing of ambulance sirens fading away in the distance.

“Come on. You need it.”

The paper bag shook invitingly and Emma finally looked up at the person holding it, her expression still ferocious.

“That had better be a bear claw,” she muttered, snatching the bag from Neal’s grasp and opening it hungrily. After sitting outside in the cold waiting for her cue for three hours, she was absolutely ravenous, and she sank her teeth into the doughnut with relish.

“Would I ever let you down?” Neal sat down on the doorstep beside her, shoving her hips with his to get her to move up and make room for him, and Emma gave in with only a small grumble of protest. He had just bought her a bear claw after all, even after she had nearly jeopardised their assignment and ended up getting both the mark and one of their own team hospitalised. At least the guy was in custody now, even if he did have an entirely accidental bullet in his ass. She took another bite of doughnut and after some consideration handed it to Neal, who tore off a chunk before giving it back.

“No,” she conceded eventually. “You’ve never let me down yet.”

They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, and Emma could tell that neither of them were particularly looking forward to going back inside the restaurant and having to deal with the fallout of what had happened earlier in the evening. Everything had been going really well, everyone had done what they were supposed to do when they were supposed to do it, until the mark had started choking. Emma had decided to perform the Heimlich rather than having a corpulent Russian mobster whom they were hoping could lead them to the bottom of a money-laundering ring they’d been tailing for months collapse and die on them, and then there were bullets flying everywhere, poor Walsh had been shot in the shoulder and the corpulent Russian was not only purple from near choking but also had a perforated posterior.

“You know,” Neal began presently as Emma took a long slug of coffee, “they’re never going to give you an assignment to lead if you carry on like this.”

Emma looked at him with an expression that would have been affronted had her cheeks not been chipmunked with deep-fried dough.

“He was choking!” she said thickly through a mouthful of doughnut.

“So will you be if you keep talking whilst you’re eating,” Neal teased. Emma smacked his arm with a huff.

“Screw you,” she mumbled before swallowing and giving a sigh that was partly satisfaction at the excellent doughnut, and partly despair at her never-changing situation. She was a good agent. She knew that and the other members of her team told her that. She was just… headstrong. “You say that every time,” she lamented.

“I wonder why that might be?” Neal mused.

“Yeah, yeah, I always manage to screw it up every time.” Emma huffed and drained the rest of the coffee, tossing the cup up into the dumpster beside her. It was galling sometimes, seeing the friends she’d joined the bureau with moving on up through the ranks and starting to lead investigations whilst she stayed solidly where she was, never going anywhere, and it rankled even worse when more junior agents got promoted ahead of her, but it was a question of integrity. Emma wasn’t about to sacrifice her own code and identity in order to get ahead in life just because everyone else had done. If that meant constantly being held back because she chose to stop an apoplectic Russian from choking and almost got one of her colleagues killed into the bargain, then so be it.

“Walsh is going to be ok,” Neal said. “He was flirting with one of the EMTs as they were loading him into the ambulance so he can’t be that bad.”

“What about Lenov?”

“Couldn’t tell. He might have been flirting too but I don’t speak Russian. Didn’t sound like flirting though, unless they go about it in a very different way to us.”

Unable to help herself, Emma gave a loud snort of laughter. No matter what had happened on any assignment that she’d managed to throw completely off-kilter, Neal could always make her smile once it was all over. Now that she came to think of it that was probably why they were so successful as partners.

“Swan? Cassidy? Where are you?”

Emma groaned on hearing her boss’s voice calling through the restaurant kitchen, and Neal chuckled.

“Come on, we’d best get it over with. The longer you hide out here the more irate he’s going to be.”

“Can’t I just sneak off home?” Emma pleaded. Neal shook his head, not even trying to hide his amused smile, and Emma rolled her eyes with a huff, cramming the last of the doughnut into her mouth and swallowing hastily, leaving her with an uncomfortable unchewed lump making its way down as she got to her feet, brushed the doughnut crumbs off her clothes and went to face the music, Neal following just behind.

Spencer was standing in the middle of the restaurant surveying the damage; Billy, who’d been in the van doing the technical link-up, was hovering worriedly behind him and he shot the other two agents an apologetic look as they came in from the kitchen. As soon as he saw Emma, Spencer gave a long-suffering sigh, fixing her with a glare that made her feel like she was eight years old and about to be told off by her foster parents again.

“What the hell happened, Swan?” Spencer asked eventually. He sounded more pained than angry, rubbing his forehead with a grimace as he mentally totted up the compensation that the bureau was going to have to organise for the restaurant owner, who was sitting at one of the booths looking rather shell-shocked. He was evidently expecting to be arrested by the FBI at any moment despite Emma’s reassurances to him earlier that he was in no way implicated and just so happened to be unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I wasn’t about to let months of work go down the drain thanks to a single dumpling, Sir,” Emma said, refusing to be cowed by the presence of her superior in a place he wouldn’t normally venture. It was rare for Spencer to leave his office, so when he actually came to scenes like this, the agents working under him knew that things were serious. Emma thought it was no coincidence that she seemed to see him more often than most.

“I don’t think Agent Swan can be held entirely to blame, Sir,” Neal began, but Spencer held up a hand to stop him.

“Your chivalry is admirable, Cassidy, but everyone present knows what happened. Swan, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened on your watch. We’ve got one good agent in the hospital because of your snap decisions.”

“I know that, Sir.”

“Walsh could have been killed tonight!”

“I know that, Sir.” Emma bit back an exclamation of frustration, tried to think up a coherent and adult sentence with which to defend herself, and remained silent when her brain came up short.

Spencer opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but instead just sighed.

“I don’t know what the blazes I’m going to do with you, Swan. This can’t happen again, you know.”

“I know.”

“Needless to say you’re desk-bound for the foreseeable future.”

Emma had been expecting that; she had been on and off her desk ever since she joined the bureau, managing to get back out into the field just in time for something else to go wrong and coop her up in the office again. It didn’t make it any harder not to whine “but Sir!” though.

Spencer gave a final melancholy look around the restaurant and shook his head. “Well, there’s nothing more than we can do here. I want reports from both of you on my desk before noon tomorrow. Now I have to go and wrangle with the Russian ambassador for the rest of the night.” He turned to leave the building and paused. “Everyone tells me you did well tonight, Cassidy. Good job in handling the situation.”

“Thank you.”

Spencer left and Emma immediately sagged down into a chair with a groan.

Neal winced in sympathy. “Ouch. Desk duty again.”

“Don’t rub it in. I already knew it was coming.” She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “At least he didn’t take my gun this time, not like after that incident with the inflatable clown.”

Billy and Neal both burst out laughing and Emma glared at them.

“Sorry, sorry… That one’s gone down in FBI history though, you’ll never live it down.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Sometimes I really don’t like you, Cassidy. I do still have my gun and if it wasn’t for the fact it has no bullets in it at the moment I’d be very tempted to accidentally use it.”

Neal threw his hands up in surrender and Billy followed suit a second later.

“Come on,” Neal said after a moment in the truce. “There’s nothing more that we can do here tonight and I think we all need warm beds and some sleep after that.” The uniformed police had cordoned off the scene and were taking charge of the place, and the agents all left the restaurant, meandering along in the direction of the subway. Billy quickly peeled off to go in the direction of his own home, leaving Neal and Emma alone.

“You don’t have to stick up for me, you know,” Emma said, thinking about the conversation with Spencer those few minutes before. “I can handle myself.”

“Oh, believe me, I know you can,” Neal said. “I think you’ve kicked the asses of every guy in the office at least twice. You’re scary when you’ve got rage, you know that?”

“Never underestimate my rage.”

“I make a point not to.”

They had entered the subway at that point, wandering up and down the platform as they waited for the next train. Despite the comparatively late hour and the stressful evening she had just had, Emma was still keyed up, thinking about everything that had happened and wondering if there was any way in which she could have done it differently: still saved Lenov from choking and not ended up with everyone getting shot.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Neal said, seeing her lost in thought. “Just forget about it for tonight. Don’t let it stew. You did the right thing, he’d have been no use to us dead.”

“I just don’t get why the drama seems to follow me around like an imprinted duckling,” Emma grumbled. She didn’t say anything more throughout the journey to her stop.

“See you in the office tomorrow,” Neal called as she got off the train.

“You’re not going to see me anywhere other than the office for a while,” Emma replied. She tried to sound good-natured, as if it didn’t matter, but deep down it did. Emma was active, she loved fieldwork and being able to solve these things practically. Stuck at her desk she would go stir crazy, and once again, it was her own fault for getting stuck there in the first place.

She tossed her keys onto the sideboard as she entered her apartment and leaned back against the door, sliding down it with a muted groan at the prospect of being out of the field for the foreseeable future. What would she have to give for something exciting to happen whilst she was out of action?

X

It was shaping up to be another average day at the office when Emma arrived the next morning, that is to say, it was looking like carnage had already broken loose, with people running from room to room and desk to desk with papers, pens, cups of tea and other random implements. Lugging her laptop bag in one hand and her coffee in the other, Emma made her way over to her station, not at all looking forward to the prospect of remaining there for the foreseeable future. Neal leaned over the partition between them and grinned.

“How’s it going?”

Emma grunted. Neal should really know better than to attempt any kind of conversation before half-past ten in the morning.

“Ok, I’ll leave you alone. But the buzz is that the bureau’s received some kind of warning and we’re on high alert.”

Emma smacked her laptop to try and bring it to life, then settled for stabbing at it rhythmically with a pencil.

“It’s probably a false alarm, these things always are.”

“Well, we’re about to find out.” Neal nodded over towards the doors as Spencer entered. Almost immediately the hum of noise in the room died back and people migrated back to their own workstations.

“Good morning everyone; good to see you behind a desk, Swan.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and flipped her superior the bird under the table. Neal gave a snort of laughter and smothered it with a hasty cough.

“You’ll all be pleased to know that Walsh is going to make a full recovery, he’s asked me to remind you that hospital visiting hours are six till eight and he’s expecting lots of expensive gifts to keep him occupied whilst he’s recuperating.”

The laughter rolled around the room and dissipated, and Spencer’s slight smile fell.

“Don’t start celebrating too prematurely though; we’ve had a threat letter. We’re raising this one as high alert. It was encoded like a lot of the terror threats are, but the tech team have cracked it and we’ve worked out that it’s a threat against the Miss Fairytale USA pageant.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. Who would want to blow up a beauty pageant, of all things? Surely they weren’t important enough to warrant any terrorist’s time. Or any of the bureau’s time, for that matter.

Spencer came over to the projector in the middle of the room and switched it on; a copy of the letter came up on the screen and Emma squinted to read it over the top of her glasses, making out the words: _it’ll be perfect princess pandemonium!_ _I’ll be there to ensure that this happily ever after goes off with a BANG._

“Now, some of you who worked on the Citizen case might recognise the style; obviously he’s out of the picture now but we can’t rule out him having an accomplice on the outside or someone performing a copycat stunt. He’s high-profile enough to have followers, and the Miss Fairytale pageant finale is being held in Texas this year, which is his natural hunting ground. For these reasons we’re treating this as a serious threat. Cassidy!”

“Yes boss?” Neal shot up from his desk.

“You did well last night and I was impressed with your work, you’ve got the lead on this assignment. Assemble your team and get a prelim report to me by the end of the day. We have less than a week before the pageant finale begins and we know that this is going to be its most high profile year. We can’t let anything happen.”

Spencer switched off the projector and left the room, and slowly all eyes turned to Neal.

“Ok, no pressure there then,” he muttered. “Right, let’s get started on this. Billy, I’ll take you on tech, Em…”

Emma shot him a look.

“Sorry, I forgot. Ok, Archie, can you get onto the letter and see if you can pull any more clues off it? You worked on the Citizen letters, didn’t you?”

“On it,” Archie called from his partition.

Emma slunk down further in her seat until she was hidden on all sides by the desk dividers, and she shoved her headphones on, selecting a loud, pounding beat to drown out all the noise of the office getting down to business for fieldwork without her.

X

“You know, I think we’re going to need to send someone in undercover.” Neal and the team he’d assembled were sitting around one of the small tables in the meeting room with all the case notes in front of them. As thrilled as he was to be leading the assignment, Neal really wished that he hadn’t been thrown in at the deep end quite so much. Trying to stay one step ahead of the bad guys was one thing, but trying to stop a bomb plot with only three days’ notice was another altogether. “I just don’t think that there’s any way we’re going to get in legit. We just won’t have the access we need.”

“I think an FBI badge is pretty much an access all areas permit,” Billy pointed out.

“Yeah, but even if we can go everywhere, we’re never going to find out what we need if we go in all guns blazing,” Neal said. “We need a softly, softly approach. The letter makes it clear that the attacker is part of the pageant, heavily involved with it in some way, and it makes sense for it to be one of the contestants because all the staff and crew are vetted and tend to stay with the pageant from season to season.”

Keith from technical raised an eyebrow. “How do you know all this?” he asked.

Neal waved away the question and continued talking. “The only people who are wild cards are the participants, who change all the time.”

Billy nodded. “Makes sense. So how do we go in?”

“Camera crew?” Keith suggested. There was a gleam in his eye that Neal had seen before and always despaired the appearance of.

“Keith, you’re not going anywhere near that pageant, you’re supposed to be protecting those ladies from being blown up, not soliciting sexual favours.”

“I don’t!” Keith began to protest, but Neal gave him a look that told him quite loudly to shut up without the need for words.

“Anyway, the camera crew are only around for the televised preliminaries, and there’s so much more work that goes on behind the scenes,” Neal said. “No, I think the best way would be to send someone in undercover as a contestant. The contestants are the most likely suspects and if we’re in amongst them, then we can pick up on things that we wouldn’t if we were coming in as outsiders.”

“Sounds good,” Billy said. “She’ll have a cam and earpiece so whatever she finds out, we’ll find out too.”

Keith seemed even more pleased about this idea and Neal rolled his eyes.

“So who are we going to send in?” Billy asked. “Who would agree to do something like that, for a start?”

“And, obviously, it’s got to be someone who, you know, looks the part,” Keith said. He was really getting worryingly into this, and Neal wondered if he’d made the right choice in putting him on the team. He and Billy were two of the best techs they had and had spent many operations monitoring all the systems from the van, but his attitude to the opposite sex could be downright off-putting at times. “So we couldn’t have Potts from accounts, for example,” he added.

Beryl Potts from accounts was in her sixties and resembled a teapot. Neal gave a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a long afternoon.

“How about Mary Margaret?” Billy suggested. “She’s into all that stuff, addicted to America’s Next Top Model.”

“Maternity leave,” Neal said.

“Tamara?” Keith hedged.

“No,” Neal said firmly.

“But she’s hot! You thought she was hot enough to bang her!”

“Jeez, Keith, have a little decency, we’re in the office, not on pay-per-view,” Neal groaned. “Besides, that’s the very reason why I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to work with her again.”

Keith just sniggered.

“Tamara was seconded over to Florida last week,” Billy put in. “And that really only leaves Emma. If you’re wanting someone of the right age and calibre.”

“You know that Emma’s desked indefinitely after last night,” Neal said. Billy shrugged.

“I’m sure that Spencer would make an exception when he knows the circumstances,” he pointed out. “Your theory’s sound, you just have to put it past him.”

“And put it past Emma,” Neal added. “That’s probably going to be harder than convincing Spencer to let her back out in the field, you know.”

“Yeah…” Billy grimaced. “Well, no time like the present.”

Emma poked her head around the meeting room door. Neal had wanted to get her involved in the case as it felt wrong to be planning things without her; they had done so much together that it felt a bit like he was missing a limb if he went on an assignment without her. Also, it was horrible to see her looking so down in the dumps because she couldn’t be a part of this operation.

“Well, I’ve looked through all the vetting for this year’s staff,” she said, dumping a pile of Xeroxed forms on the table. “There’s nothing to find in there, everyone’s clean as far as links to the Citizen are concerned; no signs of any questionable activity, no records apart from the odd speeding ticket or parking fine.”

“Hey Swan,” Keith began. Emma raised an eyebrow; she’d been on the receiving end of Keith’s lewd remarks more than once and she’d almost broken his fingers on one occasion. “Have you got a bikini?”

“Keith, shut the fuck up,” Neal warned.

“What?”

“Undercover,” Keith said. “ _Uncovered_.”

“Keith, leave her alone you perv.” Neal turned to Emma with a long-suffering sigh, but the damage had been done. Her face was white and pinched, her expression neutral but one shade away from becoming a mask of boiling rage.

“Really?” she said. “Really?”

“We need someone to go undercover,” Billy said. “And you’re kind of our only option.”

“Right.” Emma paused. “And your desire to see me in a swimsuit has nothing to do with this?” she asked Keith.

“Well, if you’re offering.”

Emma gave a tight, extremely dangerous smile.

“Always good to know that sexism is alive and well in the workplace. If you’re so desperate to see a bunch of half-naked women, Keith, try the top shelf in the newsagents.”

“Emma,” Neal began, but she was already gone, storming away out of the room and down the corridor. Neal smacked Keith upside the back of the head with his case file.

"Nice work, Smart Guy. If you've ruined this assignment because you can't keep it your pants, you'll be the one wearing the swimsuit."


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Neal ran Emma to ground in the gym, attempting to murder a punching bag. He was pretty sure he'd never seen her so incandescently furious as she was at that moment, and he'd seen Emma in glorious rages before. 

"Hey, Em. I’m sorry about earlier, I should have reined Keith in.”

She glanced up briefly on hearing his voice but instead chose to ignore him, hitting the bag again with a painful sounding thwack. 

"Emma, I’m sorry, please talk to me."

"No," she snapped tersely, continuing to spar. Neal sighed. She would tire herself out in a moment; her anger, for all it was spectacular to behold, always burned out quickly once she started working through it by punching things. 

"Emma, Keith is an asshole and we all know this, but Billy's right. You're the only one we can send undercover at that pageant."

"No!" Emma yelled, hitting the bag with such force that it swung away from her and Neal had to sidestep to avoid it hitting him. "I am not pretending to have an IQ of six-and-a-half and parading around in an itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini for all you guys to slaver over!"

"Emma, you don't have to wear a bikini of any shape, size, or dottedness," Neal said, holding the punching bag steady as she thumped it again. 

"One of those skimpy cutaway one-pieces then! I'm not getting nearly naked on TV in the name of national security! As far as I'm concerned the world would be a better place if all those stupid pageants did get blown up! If we knew who was threatening it I'd offer to help them!"

"Emma, I know you don't really mean that, you're not that vicious. Besides, for the love of Christ, the Miss Fairytale USA pageant doesn't even _have_ a swimsuit competition! You won't need to get nearly naked at all. You can remain covered up from neck to ankles if you want!"

Emma finally stopped hitting out and rested her forehead against the punching bag, looking up at Neal with a glower.

"I thought the entire point of these ridiculous things was a bunch of airheads modelling swimsuits? It can't be a very good pageant if there's no-one in their underwear at any point."

Neal sighed, leaning against the other side of the punching bag.

"The whole idea of the Miss Fairytale USA pageant is basically to find a real life Disney princess. It's aiming to give young girls good role models, so they can aspire to be the same kind of princess in real life that they see on the screen in cartoons. So no, there isn't a swimsuit contest, because that kind of defeats the object. It's probably the most demure and wholesome beauty pageant you can think of."

Emma snorted. "Well, if it's demure and wholesome I think that rules me out." She peered around the punching bag at him, her brow furrowed. "How do you know so much about it anyway?"

"It's a very long story," Neal said hastily, not wanting to think about it when he was about to get thrust back into the world he'd tried to leave behind anyway; he didn't want to go about it any sooner than he had to. "But just trust me on this. Have I ever let you down before?"

Emma sighed, punching the bag half-heartedly. It was true, he'd never let her down yet, and he'd never outright lied to her; she trusted him and knew him well enough to know that he wasn't just trying to persuade her and then leaving her in the lurch. 

"I'm not pretending to be stupid," she grumbled.

"No-one's asking you to be pretend to be stupid. You just have to pretend to be a pageant contestant."

"So, stupid," Emma repeated. "Come on, no-one chooses to do those things if they have brains they can use for something else."

"You'd be surprised," Neal said. "Most people choose to do those things because the prize money is pretty lucrative and usually enough to put you through college and grad school with no debt, and they have a ton of brains they'd like to use for that."

Emma looked at him again. "How much?"

"You won't actually get any of it if you win, you know."

"Why not?"

"Because we'll have had to get everything rigged to get you in there in the first place."

"Damn. I was hoping to retire on a yacht."

Neal laughed. "You get seasick and you'd be bored out of your mind if you ever left the bureau."

"Wholly beside the point." She left the punching bag and moved over to the benches that ran around the edge of the gym, sitting down and unwrapping her hands. Neal knew better than to follow her over. 

"All right," she said eventually. "I'll do it. But Keith's staying in the office. I don't even want him in the van with Billy. I'm pretty sure I can handle his heavy breathing in my ear but if he starts making lewd comments about all the other ladies I might vomit in the welcome breakfast."

Neal smiled. "I'll see what I can do." He gave a soft chuckle and Emma looked up at him, annoyed. 

"What?"

"Two minutes ago you were decrying all pageant contestants as stupid bimbos in swimsuits and now you're defending them from Keith's heavy breathing."

"Yeah, well. Female solidarity, even if I do despise the other females. Plus you'd get sick of Keith telling you how hot everyone is."

"I've been getting sick of Keith telling me how hot everyone is for years." Neal made to leave the gym. "I do honestly think you'll be surprised by the calibre of your fellow contestants, Miss Massachusetts," he said. 

"Massachusetts? Really? Can't I be from New York? Or you know, Virginia, where we actually are right now?"

"You're originally from Boston, it fits. You know they always say to keep cover as close to the truth as possible to stop you getting confused. We could make you into Emma-Louise from Texas if you'd rather."

"On second thoughts, Massachusetts is fine."

Neal left her alone and Emma leaned back against the gym wall, blowing out a long breath and watching the fluttering tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail during her ferocious workout. She was exhausted, but she was calm again. Neal's explanation of the Miss Fairytale pageant had knocked her sideways a little and taken the wind out of her sails. It had been easy and understandable to be pissed off about the situation when she could channel all her anger into the sexism of her colleagues and the idiocy of swimsuit contests and now she felt she had been cheated out of a good rant. It wasn't just the whole bikini parade thing that annoyed her; the entire idea of these kind of competitions just seemed so demeaning and belittling to women. Emma had always prided herself on her strength and her independence in what was essentially still very much a man's world - as Keith had admirably proved to her earlier. She felt that these kind of pageants were the opposite of empowering, and that by supporting them in this way she was somehow betraying her own gender. 

She glanced over at the door in the direction that Neal had taken, making a mental note to grill him for more information on this stupid pageant that he seemed to know a worrying amount about. But first, she had to steel herself, go back into that office and get ready to turn into a beauty queen. Emma stared at her face in the mirror in the locker room. Maybe she'd get one of those ugly duckling transformation moments like in the movies, where the heroine took off her glasses and shook out her hair and was suddenly stunning. Emma took off her glasses and squinted; she had contact lenses but could never be bothered with the fiddly process of putting them in when grabbing glasses took less than five seconds. Putting them back on and moving away from the mirror, she shook herself crossly. She had never bothered about her appearance before. She was already turning into one of those ridiculous pageant queens and she'd only technically been one for five minutes. All the same, a small, frightened part of her that was still a spotty, runaway teenager with no self-esteem started to panic, wondering how on earth she would measure up against the professionals, how she could blend in and look like she belonged with them. 

It was only a job, Emma reminded herself. It was just another part of her work. The results would be fixed anyway. Perhaps they always were fixed so that the girl with the most sponsorship won, she didn’t know, and she didn’t particularly care, either. She just knew that this wasn’t a reflection on her at all. She wouldn’t even _be_ her. She would be Emma Someone-Else, pure as the driven snow and training to be a vet or something equally twee. None of this was in any way a reflection on her own appearance.

She gave a determined nod and went to get changed. She could do this, and she was not going to let Keith’s lecherousness or her own teenage fears get the better of her.

X

If there was one pageant queen who could completely shatter Emma’s preconception that call of them were airheads who could barely write their own names, it was Cora Mills, Miss Fairytale USA 1988 and current figurehead of the Miss Fairytale pageant. She had hard, sharp features that still showed a striking, if mature, beauty, and her eyes were shrewd and calculating, looking Neal and Emma up and down as they sat in the rather uncomfortable white leather upholstered chairs in her office, and mentally taking measure of them. Emma couldn’t help feeling that she came up rather short in Cora’s estimations.

“Well, naturally, nothing is more important to me than the safety of all my girls,” Cora was saying, her tone honey-sweet and at odds with her stern expression. Emma wondered if she’d learned how to simper for the pageant and had not been able to lose that note in her voice.

“Of course,” Neal said smoothly. Neal was doing the talking; he’d always been better at doing the talking than Emma had.

“But you must understand,” Cora continued, “that given the nature of the Miss Fairytale pageant, we cannot afford for any sort of scandal to tarnish our name. If word got out that we had the FBI in, I dread to think what our sponsors would say.”

“They’d probably prefer you getting the FBI in to having your winner splattered halfway across Texas,” Emma pointed out bluntly. Neal shot her a despairing look and Cora arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

“That may be so, Agent Swan, but I have to look at the bigger picture.”

“We understand your concerns,” Neal said, quickly cutting in before Emma could argue her point any further. “Naturally we don’t want to cause any alarm or fear. We would keep out of sight, with a few rooms reserved at the resort where the pageant is taking place for our technicians and equipment for monitoring, with one agent undercover within the pageant in order for us to have full access without being intrusive.”

“I see.” Cora didn’t exactly sound pleased at this suggestion. “That might prove rather difficult,” she said. “You see, the state preliminaries have all already been held, and there are no open positions for one of your agents to take.”

“Ah, unfortunately that’s where you’re wrong,” Neal said. “There’s been a slight mishap with your Miss Massachusetts.”

“Ashley Boyd?” Cora said, perplexed and very obviously annoyed at being wrong-footed like this. At that juncture the door to her office opened and a man wearing a crumpled suit and generally looking rather scruffy entered. Cora shot him a peeved look and shooed him away. “Killian, how many times have I told you to knock! Still, since you’re here, you can fetch me and my guests some tea.”

Killian sloped off, muttering about being reduced to errand boy, and Cora cleared her throat with an embarrassed cough before turning back to the two agents. Emma was trying very hard not to giggle and Neal was simply watching her with an open, amused expression.

“As I was saying before that interruption,” Cora continued, “I wasn’t aware of any difficulties; the regional managers haven’t reported anything.”

“You’ll probably be hearing about it later today,” Neal said. “It’s a rather unfortunate circumstance, but Miss Boyd has found herself in the family way, and naturally, given the calibre of this pageant, it wouldn’t be the done thing for a young woman in such a state out of wedlock to continue competing.”

“Oh no, of course not,” Cora said quickly. “So your agent will be taking Miss Boyd’s place?”

Neal nodded.

“What kind of a lady did you have in mind?” Cora asked.

Emma raised her hand.

“That would be me, Ms Mills.”

Cora’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. Emma was beginning to think that they did in fact have lives of their own.

“Really? Well, I suppose stranger things have happened,” she muttered. Emma immediately felt her hackles raise.

“Excuse me?” she asked coldly.

“Oh, nothing, dear,” Cora said sweetly. “I was just remarking that you really didn’t seem like the type to be interested in such things.”

“Interest has nothing to do with it,” Emma snarled. “I have a duty to protect your contestants.”

“Ok, let’s not get into that,” Neal cut in smoothly. Emma glared at him but appreciated that getting into an argument with Ms Mills wasn’t going to be the best idea when they needed her co-operation in order to ensure that the entire operation went smoothly. She could quite easily make their work hell. “Now, naturally, when Agent Swan becomes Miss Massachusetts, we are going to need your assistance in making sure that she has the access she needs to perform her work. I understand that only the top ten contestants have full access to all areas on the night of the crowning?”

Cora nodded. “That is correct, although I really can’t be expected to fix…”

Neal gave her a polite smile and pushed his badge a little further across the desk towards her, and Cora gave an annoyed sigh.

“Very well. I can guarantee a place in the final ten, but no further than that, or my position will be on the line.”

Neal nodded.

“Thank you for your co-operation, Ms Mills. In return we’ll try to ensure that our work is carried out with the least disruption to the pageant as possible. Most of the contestants and crew won’t even know we’re there.”

There was a knock at the door; Emma hadn’t known that it was possible for a knock to sound sulky until that moment.

“Come in, Killian,” Cora called, her honeyed voice back in place where it had slipped during her pseudo-confrontation with Emma.

Killian shuffled into the room bearing a tea-tray and plonked it unceremoniously on Cora’s desk; she winced as the cups and saucers clattered.

“That will be all, thank you.” Cora shooed him away, but before he left, he shot Emma a leer, looking her up and down and raising an eyebrow. Emma shivered with disgust and tried to hide it by taking a large gulp of tea from the cup that Cora had poured for her, only for her to find that it was too hot and spit it back out again. Cora raised one sentient eyebrow again, and Emma felt the distinct urge to reach over and pull it off. She blew on the surface of the tea, glowering at the older woman as Neal went on to outline the technical work that the bureau would be doing and how Cora would have to co-operate with that. By the time the meeting came to an end, the majority of the groundwork had been laid and they were ready to get going. If only Emma felt quite as ready for her part.

“Thank you for your assistance, Agent Cassidy, Agent Swan,” Cora said as she showed them to the door. Killian was hanging around outside and Emma made a point of ignoring the man. “And good luck with your transformation, Miss Swan. I hope you live up to your namesake. I would offer you the assistance of one of our coaches if you require it but unfortunately our regulars all have contestants in the pageant already and I’m not sure that anyone would be available for such an intense job at the last minute.”

Emma riled and opened her mouth to say something, then the door slammed closed in her face and she was left gaping like a fish at the polished wood.

“Did she just?” she fumed as Neal moved away from the office and out towards the lobby. Emma ran to catch up with him. The building’s walls were adorned with pictures of Miss Fairytales past and present, and it was somewhat unnerving to stay in a place where there were so many plastic smiles and glittering tiaras staring down at her. By the time they reached the car again, Emma’s anger had sagged and she slumped in the passenger seat.

“She’s right, though,” she murmured as Neal started the engine and they made their way back to the FBI’s temporary base of operations a few blocks away from the pageant’s head office. “I’ve got two days to make a beauty queen out of, well, me.”

“It’s ok,” Neal said, staring straight ahead out of the windscreen. His voice sounded grimly determined, as if he wasn’t going to enjoy whatever it was that came next. “I know just who can help.”

“Who?” Emma sat up a bit straighter in her seat. “You know, I’m beginning to wonder, what with the amount you know about this pageant. Is there something you’re not telling me? Who can you get to help?”

Neal gave a long sigh.

“My dad.”

X

Caine Gold had been coaching contestants for the Miss Fairytale USA pageant for longer than he really cared to remember. Beginning his working life as a tailor's apprentice, he had first crossed paths with the niche world of beauty pageants after the fashion house he was working for in Boston had been commissioned to make a themewear gown for that year's Miss Fairytale Massachusetts. Gold, already making a name for himself within the company as a talented designer and crafter, had been chosen to produce the gown, and it had sparked a lifelong fascination with the pageant. After spending a long afternoon giving said Miss Fairytale Massachusetts advice on how to walk in the elaborate dress he had made, he had decided to turn his talents elsewhere, and thus a career in pageant coaching had beckoned. Whilst he preferred to stay close to his home in Maine now, sometimes venturing out to New Hampshire or Massachusetts, at one point he had been in such demand that he had flown all over the country to train up pageant contestants, and he'd had a waiting list.

He had never truly left his roots in fashion, though, and he looked lovingly at the creation pinned to the dressmaker's dummy in his studio, shining golden satin and hand-stitched glass beads. It was one of his best works, even if he did say so himself, and it would look even more stunning when it was being worn by the beautiful young lady that it had been designed for. He cast a glance across to the screened off area in one corner of the studio, behind which his latest charge was ensconced, and he sighed. Gold knew from experience that it really never paid to get too attached - or, God forbid, attracted - to one's client.

Thankfully at that moment his phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of the melancholy daydream and back into the present. He fished it out and answered it. He'd finally been persuaded to upgrade to a smart phone to keep up with the times, but he would admit to being something of a technological liability and he was still worried that he would end up taking a photo of his ear instead of answering the damn thing by accident.

"Gold."

"Hi Dad. It's Neal."

Neal sounded nervous, uncomfortable, and Gold couldn't say that he was surprised. He was feeling exactly the same way himself, as soon as he had heard Neal's voice. Whilst their relationship was certainly more cordial than it had been in recent years, strained was still probably the best word to describe it. Neal had not been back to Storybrooke for years, and although they spoke on the phone occasionally and sometimes met if Gold was in Boston or New York City on business, their meetings and conversations were still somewhat awkward, both knowing that there were things that needed to be said and neither quite brave enough actually to take that plunge and say them.

"Hello Neal. How are you keeping? I haven't heard from you for a while."

"I'm fine, thanks." He sounded distracted. "Listen, Dad, I, erm, I need a favour."

It was well known within the fashion and pageant worlds that no-one asked a favour of Caine Gold. You never got something for nothing, and it was best to avoid making that deal altogether. He was ruthless, but he got results. His ladies had reached the top ten of the Miss Fairytale pageant every year since he started, apart from one unfortunate case of food poisoning that had turned out to be a deliberate sabotage attempt by an unscrupulous young coach in charge of North Dakota.

But for his son, Gold would move heaven and earth if he had to, and never extract a price.

"Of course, anything. What can I do for you?"

"I need you to coach a Miss Fairytale contestant. I know there's only three days before the competition, but..." Neal trailed off.

"Neal," Gold began, glancing back towards the screen where the soft, slightly off-key humming had stopped and it was clear that the person behind it was trying not to listen to the private conversation but couldn't really leave unobtrusively. "I would honestly love to help you, you know that...”

“Yeah, it’s ok, forget I asked.”

"Wait, Neal, maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement. One moment." He called to Belle. "I'll be back in a minute, my dear."

"All right," Belle's voice said cheerfully from behind the screen. "I'm not going anywhere."

Gold left the studio and slipped into his small office beside it. "All right, no fear of being overheard. I mean, I know what you do, Neal, and I know that if you're asking me to coach a Miss Fairytale contestant, especially with this little time to go, it's unlikely to be out of a newfound desire to see a legitimate competitor win."

Neal sighed on the other end of the phone.

"You were always shrewd, Dad." He paused. "We need to send an agent in undercover at the pageant as a contestant. I can't tell you any more than that, but she's gonna need a bit of a confidence boost and some assistance to really make her able to act the part."

“The problem is, Neal, I already have a contestant in the competition."

"Yeah." Neal let out a long sigh. "Yeah, Cora Mills said all the regular coaches were taken, but I thought that you might have taken a break this year. You know how you always say that this year's going to be your last."

Gold cringed. It was true. He always kept promising his son that he would give it a rest, and he always kept breaking that promise.

"Who is it this year?" Neal asked. Gold raised an eyebrow; Neal had never shown any interest in his work before, but this might be an opening for them to come to some kind of agreement. He hated to let him down, especially when Neal had come out of his comfort zone, swallowed his pride and asked his father for help, something he hadn't done since he was a teenager. It would be terrible to throw that back at him, not when this could be the bridge across the chasm between them that they so desperately needed.

"I'm at home, Maine. She's a local girl from Storybrooke, actually. Belle French."

"French? As in, Moe French the Florist?"

"His daughter, yes."

"Oh." Neal sounded a little stunned and Gold gave a small smile. "She was always reading, wasn't she? I mean, she was younger so I never really knew her before I went to Mum's, but she was always reading."

"Oh, she still is. But Miss French has blossomed into a very lovely young woman, and she has become this year's Miss Maine."

"Right. Ok." There was a long, screaming silence on the other end of the phone. "Well, it was worth a try."

“Wait, Neal, we can work something out. Your agent, she's rigged to make it to top ten, I presume?" Gold asked. He'd been around pageants long enough to know how they worked, there was generally always one contestant who got to the finale with a little help from monetary or legal persuasion.

"Yeah, but she still has to feel the part, you know. Like she belongs there. Otherwise no-one will buy it and her cover will be scuppered."

"I understand." Gold paused, letting out a long breath. On the one hand, the agent would be guaranteed a place in the final and thus her placing would not reflect on his work at all. Belle would still be his crowning glory and Belle herself would not need to worry about a conflict of interests. That is, if Belle knew what he was doing at all. There was always the possibility that he could do this without anyone knowing of his involvement.

On the other hand, what if Belle was destined for the top ten, like all of his other ladies had been, and she was passed over because there were only nine legitimate places available, and the place that would have been hers was already reserved for this undercover contestant? He couldn't let his first failure to place in top ten come about because the FBI had decided to intervene.

Gold shook himself. He couldn't afford to think like that. He had put his career and his reputation ahead of his son too many times already; it was the entire reason that they were so estranged, and he didn't want to push Neal any further away.

"All right," he said. "I'll do it. But you'll have to come to Storybrooke, I can't suddenly jet off and leave Belle in the lurch so close to the competition."

He heard Neal's heartfelt sigh of relief down the phone.

"Thank you, Dad, I understand. Emma and I will be on the next plane."

"I'll see you soon, son."

The call ended and Gold stared down at the phone for a while, wondering just what he'd managed to let himself in for, and finally moving away from his desk, ready to focus on his task at hand and the young woman whose competition he was truly invested in.

"Mr Gold?"

Belle's head and shoulders peered around the screen as he entered the studio again. "Is everything all right?" she added.

Gold nodded unsurely as he moved over to the mannequin, loosening the dress on its form and carefully bringing it over to Belle, who held out one hand for it.

"Yes. My son's coming up for a few days."

Belle smiled brightly, a smile that lit up the whole studio and would light up the stage when she was on it.

"Neal's coming? That's great news! It's been a while since he was last here, hasn't it?"

"Years," Gold murmured. Neal had never come back for any length of time after announcing his intention to go and live with his mother in Boston. He shook his head, not wanting to think any more on that particular tumultuous time. That his marriage had broken up was hardly surprising; he and Milah had not been compatible at all and she had been increasingly jealous of the amount of time he spent with other women in a professional capacity. But losing Neal was something that he would always regret.

"Mr Gold?" Belle stepped out from behind the screen, hands pressed neatly over her chest to hold up the drop-shoulder dress, and she turned her back. "Will you lace me, please?"

Gold suppressed a sigh as he gently brushed her rich dark curls over her shoulder and worked the laced back of the dress with deft fingers until it was fastened properly. Oh yes, he was definitely wondering what he'd let himself in for, not with Neal's request, but with Belle herself.

"All right, you're all done. Now, let's see you walk in it. You remember the little kick to throw the skirt forward so you don't tread on it?"

Belle turned, nodding, and Gold stepped back to let her glide slowly around the room, looking every inch a Disney princess in the flesh.

He was already in far too deep, and he knew that it could only end in tears.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Emma had never met Neal's dad. To be honest, she hadn't really twigged that he _had_ a father, since he had never really come up in conversation all that much. She knew that his parents had divorced when he was four and he'd lived with his dad until he was thirteen, then they'd had an argument, he'd moved out to live with his mum in Boston, taken her maiden name and had basically never looked back.

Looking now at Mr Gold, with his impeccably cut three-piece suit and tie, cane, and the glint of gold in his slightly reptilian smile, she couldn't think of anyone she would less expect to be Neal's father. He had dark eyes, and Emma found him very difficult to read, as if he was wearing a mask.

They were sitting in the airy studio that Gold called his workplace, and it was clear that the awkwardness in the atmosphere wasn't going to get any better. Gold himself was standing over by the window, taking a phone call; Emma couldn't make it out but it seemed to be of a professional nature and involved fabric suppliers of all things.

"Maybe you should go, Neal," Emma said. "I'll be fine, honestly. I think I can handle your dad."

Neal didn't seem quite as convinced, but he knew better than to contradict her. She didn't need protection, after all, she had her own gun.

"Ok, well, if you're sure."

"I'm sure, Neal. I can tell that you really, really don't want to be here." Neal had been antsy ever since they'd touched down in Boston, and he'd just got worse as they'd got closer and closer to Storybrooke. "Go and take a walk around, get some air, come back here with a clear head." She wanted to tell him not to go too far, because deep inside a small part of her needed the moral support, going way out of her comfort zone as she was, but it was clear that Neal wasn't exactly in his comfort zone either, and since he was the one in charge on this assignment, she needed him to be thinking straight more than her. Besides, her job at the moment wasn't exactly difficult. She just had to listen to Gold's lessons and put them into practice.

"Thanks. It's just so weird being back. Nothing's changed since I left and that was over fifteen years ago. I'll come back in a minute." Neal glanced over to his father. "Don't let him push you around too much."

"Neal, you know that no-one pushes me around."

"Yeah, maybe don't injure him either. Use your words."

"Oh, trust me, my words can be very inventive when they want to be."

Neal gave a huff of laughter. "So can his, that's what I'm worried about. If I come back and you're not trading insults I'll consider that an achievement."

"You're really not selling your father as a mentor, here," Emma pointed out. Neal just raised an eyebrow.

"There was a reason I left," he said sharply. "But for all his bad points, he's very good at what he does."

Emma nodded. "Well, you'd be the one to know." She grinned at him. "At least this explains how come you know so much about this damned pageant."

"More than anyone would ever care to know," Neal said. He stood to leave just as Gold finished his call and came back towards them. "I'll be back soon," he said to his father; Gold just nodded, evidently having expected his son's rapid departure, and he took a seat opposite Emma.

"So, Miss Swan. Miss Massachusetts I should say. Shall we get started?"

Emma spread her hands. "I guess. Beautify me, Mr Gold. Neal says you're one of the best."

"He does?" Gold seemed genuinely surprised at receiving any kind of praise from his son. "Oh."

There was a moment of silence whilst he digested the comment, and then he spoke again. "Well, the first step is always to remember that true beauty comes from within."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, and the rest. Try telling that to the airbrushers in the lingerie catalogues."

"Miss Swan, there are no airbrushers on live television, and I can assure you that there is no lingerie at any point." Gold's voice was cool, no-nonsense. Emma nodded.

"Yeah, I've been told."

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes. If you're going to pass for a fairytale princess, you need to start sounding like one. Yes."

Emma let out a long breath, trying to keep her temper. "I'm not talking like the Queen of England."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm simply asking for good diction. There are several interviews as part of the pageant and the ability to express yourself clearly and precisely is key." He got up and moved around to the back of Emma's chair, bringing his hands down lightly on her shoulders. Immediately Emma flinched, shrugging him off and twisting around to face him angrily. Gold held his hands up, but his face remained impassive.

"Excellent posture is also necessary," he said. "I won't correct it myself if you don't want me to, but follow my prompts. Back straight, shoulders down and back, chin level with the floor, _knees together_. No slouching or hunching."

Emma resettled herself in the chair as bid and scrunched up her face as Gold came around to her front again. "This really isn't comfortable. How do people sit like this all day?"

"It’s only uncomfortable because you're used to bad posture," Gold said. How he could stay so calm and placid about the whole thing was beyond Emma. "You're tilting forward a little." Emma shifted again. "Better."

She was pretty sure she was in exactly the same position as before.

"This feels so stiff," she said plainly, her spine whining at her to just crumple down back into her previous comfortable aspect.

"I bet you feel taller and slimmer though," Gold remarked.

"Was that a dig at my weight?" Emma exclaimed.

Gold hooked his cane into the crook of his elbow and rubbed the bridge of his nose before folding his arms. For the first time, he looked like Neal, who did exactly the same thing when he was losing his temper.

"Miss Swan, if you are determined to fight me every step of the way, this is not going to be a satisfactory process for either of us. I'm just trying to help you feel like you belong in this pageant, because once you feel like you belong, you will _look_ like you belong without any help from me or anyone else. Like I said, beauty and grace come from within." He paused. "I know it might not seem like it whilst your back feels like you want to kill it, but I know what I'm doing. I have been doing this a long time." He gave a crocodilian smile. "Be glad I haven't tied you to the chair like I have heard some other coaches do."

"Gold, you'd be on the floor in a headlock before you got anywhere near me with string."

"So I gather. Now. Back straight, _knees together_!"

Emma closed her legs obediently. It was going to be a very long two days.

X

It was strange being back in Storybrooke, somewhere Neal still felt he had roots but hadn't visited in so long. It was weird that the thing that had driven him away from the place - the Miss Fairytale USA pageant and his father's involvement with it - was the very thing to bring him back. Everything was still pretty much the same, but in a town this small, that was understandable. Granny's was still the same when they'd checked in earlier; Granny had enthused about how much he'd grown and how nice it was that he was finally back, however fleetingly, and Neal had tried to smile and accept her greetings with good grace. There was no sign of Ruby; he assumed she must have moved on in the time he'd been away. She'd always had somewhat itchy feet and had asked on more than one occasion before he left if she could run away to Boston with him.

He was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice that he was about to trip over the young woman who had just exited the library with her nose in a book, locking up one-handed and without looking as if she'd done it a thousand times before. She probably had. Although he hadn't seen her since she was ten, it was clear that this was Belle French, devourer of every book Storybrooke had to offer and his father's current protégée.

"Sorry, sorry," she said as they almost collided. "I should really stop walking and reading at the same time."

"It's ok, I wasn't exactly looking where I was going either," Neal said. He paused, wondering whether or not to say anything else in greeting; it was obvious that she didn't recognise him, but she was looking at him with her head tilted on one side, as if she was trying to place him. "Belle? It's Neal."

Her smile brightened.

"Neal! Your dad told me that you were coming back. He's been so nervous since you said you were coming."

Neal nodded. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

"Have you seen him yet?" Belle asked. "I'm just going over to see him myself, actually. I don't mind being moral support if you want to come along. Or not, if you don't want an audience."

"No, it's ok, I've just come from there. And we have seen each other since I left, it's not like this is the first reunion in fifteen years." Neal wracked his brains, trying frantically to think of how he could stall Belle. He knew he could trust his father to be discreet about the circumstances that had brought him back to Storybrooke, so he knew that Belle would not be aware of Emma's situation. It would be a bit awkward if she were to turn up for a session only to find Emma, an ostensible rival, in the midst of it all. He fell into step beside Belle.

"So... Miss Maine."

"Yes." Belle blushed, her hair hiding her face for a moment before she looked up again. "Yes. It's all happened a bit suddenly to be honest, I never expected to get this far. But Caine's been so wonderful... You don't want to talk about this, I know it's not your thing." She trailed off with an embarrassed cough and picked up her pace, and Neal jogged to catch up to her. Hearing Belle French on first name terms with his father was quite possibly one of the stranger things that had happened, but he had to put it out of his mind and concentrate on the task at hand. Belle, however, seemed to be fairly determined in her quest and was not to be perturbed.

"So, what takes you over to the studio today?" he asked desperately.

"Dress fitting," Belle said. "Caine - Mr Gold - made me a gown for the final, we need to get the fit right." She stopped on the pavement outside the studio and turned to him. "Is there something wrong, Neal?" she asked. "I know you aren't interested in the pageant at all. I might not have known you since we were kids but I do know your dad, and you have to know that he talks about you a lot. All good things," she added earnestly. "But I know that the pageant is why you left in the first place, so it just seems strange to me that you're suddenly interested in me and it."

Neal sighed, wondering if it might be easier to just bring Belle in on the entire thing. With the two agents in town until the competition final began in Texas, and with Emma receiving an intense crash course in how to be a beauty queen, it wasn't going to be possible to hide it from her forever, and it wasn't fair to her to prevent her from seeing her coach in the run up to the most important event that he had trained her for, just because they needed him for a matter of national security. Finally he opened the door for her and she stepped inside.

"It's complicated," he said, following her up the stairs towards the studio.

X

Emma didn't think she'd ever looked so ridiculous. So that he could see how she moved in a floor length dress, such as she would be required to wear on several occasions throughout the pageant, Gold had got her to tie a bed sheet round her waist and walk up and down the studio in it. So far she had stood on the hem twice and fallen over once.

"You have to sort of... stalk," Gold said. "Channel your inner tiger. You need to kick out to move the skirt forward."

"Is that why runway models always look like they're walking through treacle?" Emma grumbled. She did have to admit that the little kick made walking with the material a lot easier, but that didn't stop her feeling like an idiot.

"Chin level with the floor," Gold said.

"How can I see where I'm going if I don't look at the floor!" Emma exclaimed. "I'm even more likely to fall on my face!"

“You’ll be fine as long as you put one foot in front of the other. There’s not going to be anything in your path that you might fall over.” All the furniture had been pushed to the edges of the room and Gold was standing at one end, Emma the other. “Now, just walk towards me, and don’t look down.”

“You make it sound like I’m on a tightrope between two buildings or something,” Emma muttered.

“If that makes it easier for you to walk regally in a straight line, then go ahead and imagine that,” Gold said.

Emma had got halfway across the floor without treading on the sheet when the door opened and she turned sharply, expecting to see Neal and really not wanting him to see her with a sheet tied around her.

“Caine? What’s going on here?”

Instead of Neal, there was a slightly perplexed young brunette woman, who was looking from Gold to Emma and back again, reserving judgement and waiting to be told what it was that she’d just walked in on.

“Ah. Yes. Sorry my dear, the time got away from me. Belle French, Emma Swan, Miss Swan, Miss French, Maine, Massachusetts, Massachusetts, Maine, I can explain everything.” The words tumbled over themselves in Gold’s haste to get them out and he looked in what could only be described as wide-eyed panic at Emma, and then at Neal, who had appeared in the doorway behind Belle. “I can explain everything, can’t I?”

Belle stepped into the room, still patiently awaiting her explanation, and Neal slipped in after her; she turned to him.

“It’s complicated?” she said.

“We’ll tell you what’s going on, but you have to understand that we’ll need you to sign an NDA.” Neal paused then showed her his badge. “Emma and I are with the FBI.”

Belle raised one eyebrow. “An NDA?”

“Non-Disclosure Agreement,” Emma said. She was beginning to rethink Neal’s assertion that pageant contestants did have brains after all.

“I know what one is, I’m just piecing together why I need one,” Belle said. “But go ahead. I won’t tell.”

It took them a little while to get the form sorted; luckily they were already prepared since Gold had had to sign one as well, and then they were all sitting around in Gold’s small office. Emma was still wearing the sheet around her middle and she untied it with a muffled curse.

“Emma is going undercover at the Miss Fairytale pageant,” Neal was explaining. “I brought her to Dad for some help so that she looks and feels the part.”

Belle smiled good-naturedly. She seemed to be a genuinely sweet young woman, and Neal had known her in his youth. Emma was still reserving judgement on her intelligence.

“I won’t ask why the FBI are going to be at the pageant,” she said. “But I guess that it’s better than them not being there.” She turned to Gold. “I can come back later if it’s more convenient.”

Emma shook her head. “No, no, he’s your coach, I’m just a last minute hopeless case.”

“You are not hopeless, Miss Swan,” Gold said. “You just need to put your mind to it. Come through to the studio, Miss French, your dress is ready.”

Emma and Neal were left alone in the office. Neal was typing frantically on his phone and didn’t look up for a few minutes.

“Your dad is something else,” Emma said, slumping down in her chair, remembering everything Gold had taught her about posture and sitting up straight again, then deciding that since she wasn’t on duty as a contestant yet, she really didn’t care.

Neal laughed softly. “I did warn you.”

“Oh, I know that he’s right, more’s the pity,” Emma replied. “Has he seriously always done this?”

“For as long as I can remember.” Neal paused. “He coached Cora Mills herself in ‘88 actually. She was Miss Maine too.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Really? Sheesh, why didn’t we bring him with us when we went to see her? Maybe we’d have got further.”

“I don’t know about that, he’s never talked about her in a particularly flattering light. I think they parted on bad terms.”

“She won, didn’t she?”

“Yes. Doesn’t necessarily mean that the working relationship was a harmonious one.”

“Tell me about it,” Emma said.

“He seems to be getting on with Belle all right though. Or rather, Belle seems to be getting on with him. If I didn’t know better I’d say she was a bit smitten.” Neal finally put his phone down and leaned back in his chair. “Not sure how I feel about that to be honest.”

“Well, right now I pity her,” Emma said, playing with the corners of the sheet that was bunched up around her where she sat.

“It’ll be all right in the end. You don’t have to deal with it for very long, then this time next week it will all be over. Come on, I’ll buy you a bear claw. Granny’s doughnuts are legendary. So is her lasagne, but for different reasons.”

Emma huffed. “Am I even allowed doughnuts now I’m a beauty queen? I thought they all subsisted off lettuce and filtered air.”

“Good role model for Disney princess loving girls, remember?” Neal said. “Doughnuts are allowed, and I don’t care what Dad might have to say on the subject. You’re the one who has to go through this and you deserve a doughnut for putting up with him.”

Emma laughed, and closed her eyes in anticipation of the processed sugar. Just then, Neal’s phone began to ring and he stepped outside to take the call. Idly Emma wondered if it was Keith, moaning at being struck off the fieldwork team. They’d replaced him with Lance Knight, Walsh’s partner. He didn’t have as much operational experience, having come from NCIS, but he was a good field agent and had the added bonus of being happily married so there was at least less likelihood of harassment, skirt-chasing or both.

Curious, Emma got up and took a look around the office. Thankfully, unlike the pageant headquarters, this one did not have pictures of all Gold’s successes plastered all over the walls. In fact, there was only one photograph at all, a small one framed on Gold’s desk. She picked it up to take a closer look, seeing a picture of a young Neal sitting on his father’s lap.

“Well, that’s all sorted.” Neal came back into the room and Emma looked up at him, the photo frame still in her hand.

There was a moment of embarrassment then, Neal scratching the back of his head awkwardly with a slight grimace on his face.

“You were a cute kid,” Emma said, putting the picture down and moving back towards her chair. The conversation was closed and she wouldn’t ask any more about it. Neal’s relationship with his father was a sore point, just as Emma’s tumultuous childhood was for her, and they both knew better than to needle each other’s painful places.

Voices could be heard in the corridor outside and Emma surmised that Belle and Gold were finished in the studio.

“It looks so wonderful, Caine, thank you,” Belle was saying. “I hope it gets an airing at the finale.”

“I’m sure it will, Miss French.”

“I’ve told you before, you can call me Belle. You said that I could call you Caine, after all. We’ve been working together for a long time, I think that you can use my first name.”

“Very well, Belle.”

Emma peeped around the office door. Gold and Belle were standing together at the top of the stairs, and although neither of them was actually saying anything, they seemed to be having a conversation with eyes alone. She ducked back into the office, stifling a giggle behind her hand. Neal raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Oh my god, they’ve got it bad,” she said. “Seriously, it’s schmaltzy romantic movie levels of mutual UST out there and I don’t think either of them even realise it.”

Neal slapped a palm over his face, dragging it down slowly with a groan.

“If that’s true, he’ll only screw it up, he always does. God, if he breaks her heart I’ll never forgive him.”

“Ok, maybe you ought to warn him about that then.”

“Warn me about what?” Gold re-entered the office. “All right, Miss Swan, bring the sheet, we have a lot to get through and not much time to get through it in.”

Emma rolled her eyes and gathered up the sheet. Neal just winked at her and watched her leave the room. Gold loitered for a moment.

“Thank you for bringing Belle in on the situation,” he said quietly. “I… I wouldn’t like to have to lie to her. She’s astute, reads people as easily as her books.”

“Well, it seemed only fair,” Neal said.

Gold nodded. “Thank you,” he repeated, before leaving the room and returning to the studio.

Neal pondered. Maybe Emma was right, and there was something there between his father and his latest charge.

X

By the time Emma got back to the bed and breakfast that evening, she never wanted to see the inside of Gold's studio again. She wasn't sure how many times she had walked up and down that floor or how many times she had got intimately acquainted with it having fallen on her face, but she was pretty sure it was into the hundreds on both counts. Neal was waiting for her in the doorway to her room, holding up a six pack of beer and a bag full of take-out containers. On top of the chicken and fries was a paper bag with the largest bear claw that Emma had ever seen, and she sighed with happiness.

"You're too good to me," she said, letting herself into her room and flopping down on the bed. "Your father's a slave driver," she groaned. "I swear my legs no longer know how to walk like a normal person."

Neal set out the food on the small desk and sat down, tossing a plastic fork towards Emma and beginning to dig in himself.

"Yeah. Well, it's not your fault you're the only one we can feasibly send in there," Neal said. "Maybe don't tell him I gave you beer, though."

"Yeah, sweetness and light and perfect demure Disney princess, I know." Emma sat up and reached over to grab some fries. "He's right though. I do feel taller."

Neal sat back in the chair and looked at her critically.

"I've decided that it would be safer for me not to say anything at all."

Emma grinned at him. "That's a very smart move, Cassidy." She popped open her beer and raised it in a toast to him.

"To Princess Emma, long may she reign over her kingdom,” Neal said.

"Thank you, my loyal subject," Emma replied regally, chinking her can against his. Neal bowed low, and they both fell about laughing. Emma sighed, shoving fries in her mouth. It was probably a good thing that Gold hadn't seen her eating yet, or he would baulk at her lack of grace. If only she could stay like this for the next few days, just her and Neal having a laugh like they always did, instead of having to go through with this ridiculous pageant.

"Neal," she began, voicing a thought that had been bubbling at the back of her mind for a while, ever since that conversation in the gym when she had agreed to this venture in the first place. "Why did you pick me? I mean, there are enough female agents in the bureau, you didn't need to have stayed within our department."

Neal shrugged. "I know how much you really didn't want to stay behind a desk," he said.

Emma looked at him. "I know that's not the real reason because I know you had to practically offer your soul to Spencer to get him to allow me out."

"Well... I know you've done some undercover work before and you've nailed it. I just trust you to do it well. Even if you're in uncomfortable situations, you always get results in the end. They might not have been got in the way that you first expected..."

"Yeah, including shooting miscreant Russians in the ass," Emma pointed out, and Neal rolled his eyes.

"Ok, let's forget about Lenov and that little misadventure. I trust you, Em. That's why I wanted you undercover. It's got nothing to do with how you look or your princess credentials because, no offence, you're the least princess-like person I've ever met."

"Don't worry, I'm not offended. I take that as a compliment."

"I trust your instincts. And when you're undercover you need those."

"Well, as long as my spidey senses don't get warped by too much hairspray in the atmosphere," Emma muttered, snatching the last piece of chicken and brushing greasy crumbs off the pillow. "Don't tell your dad how messy an eater I am."

"Well you don't tell him about the beer, I won't tell him about the ketchup round your mouth."

Emma wiped her lips, glaring at Neal when they came up clean, and he sniggered.

"Sometimes I don't like you," she said.

"But I brought you a doughnut." Neal tossed the bag with the pastry towards her and she caught it in both hands.

"Yeah, buy my heart with bear claws why don't you?" She took the doughnut out. "Although if you bring me any more your father might have words with you as I'll have ballooned into a cottage loaf before the pageant. I know that it's not focussed on looking like a size zero model but you're probably not meant to be fat."

"No. Healthy, I think, is the aim. But fried chicken and doughnuts can't hurt in times of stress." Neal paused, stretching out all his limbs. "I'll let you sleep. Knowing Dad he'll have you at it all day tomorrow, and then we go to Texas and the thing begins for real."

"Night," Emma agreed. She watched him leave and heaved herself off her bed to go and find her pyjamas. She wasn't looking forward to the next week at all, but at least Neal was there to make it bearable.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

Emma was surprised to find Belle in the studio with Gold when she arrived the next morning at a really quite ridiculous hour.

"Should I come back?" she asked.

"No, no, it's ok," Belle said brightly. "I thought that you might need some moral support, so I've come today to make sure that you two get along."

Gold gave her a look, but just shook his head in good-natured despair and made no comment on Belle's blithe statement.

"I am going to need all your measurements to make sure that your gowns fit well," he explained. "I thought you would be more comfortable if Belle took them rather than me."

Emma blinked at his consideration. "Oh. Yes. Thank you."

"Well then, if we get that over with first. I'll be just outside if you need me. And remember your posture! Belle, please ensure Miss Swan has correct posture when you take her height measurement."

Emma rolled her eyes, but Belle just laughed.

"I know he's got a point and this is all in my best interest," Emma grumbled, "but seriously, how do you stand it for however many weeks he's been coaching you? It's been half a day for me and I'm already wanting to quit and go home."

"I suppose I have the added advantage of wanting to be here," Belle said. "Just pop behind the screen there; you'll need to take your bra off but you can keep your t-shirt and panties on, and bare feet."

"You're used to this, aren't you?" Emma called. Getting practically undressed in the presence of someone who was all but a stranger wasn't exactly her idea of fun, but at least Belle was better than Gold, and she kept reminding herself that at no point would be she undressed in front of a live audience.

"I've had a lot of fittings and measurings," Belle replied. Emma couldn't see her but there seemed to be a tone of something in her voice, and Emma smiled to herself. She would not have got on in the bureau had she not been able to read people, at least to some extent, and the look that Belle and Gold had shared at the top of the stairs the previous day was still fresh in her mind.

"Has he ever seen you naked?" she asked mischievously.

"No!" Belle exclaimed, shocked. "No, no, of course not, that would be... highly improper."

Emma decided not to push the point, but as she came out from behind the screen, the sight of Belle blushing furiously and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth actually helped to set her at ease a little, as well as confirming her suspicions that Belle would not mind at all if Gold had seen her naked, and that she was nursing more than a little crush on her coach.

"Ok, let's get started," Belle said briskly, taking all of Emma's measurements with the practiced ease of someone who'd had it done to them so many times that it was practically second nature. Emma hadn't realised just how tiny the other woman was until she had to stand on a box to get Emma's height.

"All right, all right, I know I'm no supermodel," she said self-deprecatingly as Emma gave a giggling snort. "Some of us have to have short legs. You can go and get dressed again now, that was the final measurement."

Emma wasted no time in going to put the rest of her clothes back on.

"How did you get into this whole thing in the first place?" she asked Belle when she emerged again.

"Oh, I'm trying to put myself through college," Belle said. "Double major, English lit and journalism. I was on a scholarship for my first two years but it wasn't renewed so I had to drop out and come home. My friends back here suggested I apply for the pageant; I was always called Disney at school because of my name, everyone used to think I was a princess. It was a joke, really, but with a prize like that, a scholarship to a college of your choice that you've been accepted to or a monetary equivalent, well, it was too good to pass up."

There was a discreet tap at the door.

"It's ok Gold, I'm decent," Emma called. Gold entered the room.

"Thank you, Belle," he said as Belle handed him the notepad with all Emma's measurements. "You can go now if you want."

Belle shrugged. "The library's not open today, I don't mind hanging around if you need me for anything else. If you don't mind, of course," she added, speaking to Emma.

Emma considered her previous offer of moral support. Considering that she was going to be in for another gruelling day of posture and diction exercises and having Gold scrutinise her every move, she thought she might need it.

"I don't mind," she said. It might be useful to get some perspective of the pageant from the point of view of an actual contestant.

"Very well then. Since we'll be travelling to the pageant tomorrow, we need to make sure you're ready for the beginning today. We can work on your interview technique later once we get there, but first of all you need to look the part. Take a seat please, Miss Swan, back straight and knees together!"

"I will never get used to this posture," Emma grumbled as she sat down.

"You will eventually," Belle said. "I agree it's weird at first."

"I'll never get used to the walk, either."

"Ah, I've got an advantage over you there; I've been wearing sky-high heels since I was fifteen." Emma raised an eyebrow and Belle spread her hands. "What? I'm short! I need all the extra height I can get!"

"I'd like to take a look at the condition of your hair, Miss Swan," Gold said, coming over to her. "May I?"

"Erm, sure." Emma looked at him sideways as he picked up a few strands of her ponytail, peering at them closely.

"When did you last have your hair cut?" he asked.

Emma racked her brains. "Erm, four years ago, I think?"

"Hmm. I can tell. You've got split ends so long they're almost new hairs of their own accord."

"You're not cutting my hair!"

"This isn't hair, Miss Swan." Gold held up the thick, bushy end of her ponytail. "This is straw. It is not healthy hair."

"I thought the whole point of this stupid pageant was that beauty comes from within, and we're sending a good message to young girls and all that crap!" Emma protested.

Gold let go of her hair and came to face her.

"This isn't a question of outward beauty, Miss Swan," he said coolly. "This is a question of taking basic care of yourself and taking some kind of pride in your appearance."

"I don't care what I look like! I don't care what other people think of my appearance!"

"That, Miss Swan, is incredibly obvious. However, for the next week, you are not you, you are a pageant contestant, and like it or not, you are going to have to care about that. Do you honestly think that you won't feel better in and of yourself with nice, healthy hair? This isn't just about the way others see you. In fact, that's rather secondary to how you see yourself. When Neal asked me to coach you, he asked me to make you _feel_ the part, not look it. If you don't feel good about yourself, you are not going to look at home on that stage, and I can tell from your appearance that..."

"STOP!" Emma screamed, springing out of her seat, hands at the grab-ready. "Shut the fuck up!"

She stormed from the studio, barging into the small bathroom at the other end of the corridor and not even hearing the crash of the door bouncing off the opposite wall with the force she put behind it before it slammed closed. She leaned heavily on the sink, her breathing ragged as she forced back the tears that were welling up. She couldn't cry, she wouldn't cry. Not because of Gold, of all people.  She tried to put it all to the back of her mind, and for a long while, she wished that Neal was there to back her up.

There was a neat tap on the door; it sounded like metal against wood rather than fingers.

"I apologise, I appear to have touched a nerve," Gold said through the door.

Emma snorted and made no reply.

"I didn't intend to cause any offence. I merely wanted to impress upon you that not caring what others think doesn't mean that you can't care yourself, that you can't want to look nice for your own benefit. You are not in any way vain or self-centred in wanting to look your best for the confidence that brings to you. That is the message that this pageant is trying to get across. Being your best self for no-one's benefit but your own."

Emma stared into the mirror, blinking against her misty vision. There was a long pause, but she didn't hear Gold move away.

"Do you have contact lenses, Miss Swan?" he asked presently, completely changing tack. Emma's brow furrowed.

"Yeah... Yes, I mean."

"Do you have them with you? Could you put them in?"

Emma took the case out of her pocket and put it on the edge of the sink. Neal had warned her that she might need to wear them from a practical perspective; as stage lights reflected oddly off glasses and caused glare it was likely that the TV organisers wouldn't let her wear them anyway.

"Why?" she hedged.

"It's not that I don't appreciate your need to wear glasses, but the ones you are wearing do not compliment your face. They draw away from your eyes, and I would quite like you to see your face in its best light."

With slightly shaking fingers, Emma put her lenses in and stared hard into the mirror. Gold did have a point, but she wasn't going to let him know that, and she certainly wasn't going to let him know about the deep-seated self-esteem issues that went back to her youth and had made her so vehemently opposed to making herself look pretty. Emma took a deep breath and left the bathroom. Gold was leaning on the wall outside, flexing his right ankle, cane hooked into the crook of his elbow, which seemed to be his default stance when he didn't have to use it.

"Do you understand where I'm coming from?" he asked. Emma nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I understand. And I'll let you cut my split ends off. I don't have to like it though."

Gold laughed, showing his metal tooth. "No. Just bear it for a week. That's all you have to do."

"Yes." Emma sighed and looked down at her feet, wondering just how she was going to get through the next week with not only no glasses to hide behind but also no prickly armour of don't care attitude either.

"Chin up," Gold said, and Emma gave a muted groan before looking up at him. "Smile." Emma forced a smile onto her face and Gold gave a long sigh, rubbing his nose. "I said smile, not look as if you're having teeth pulled. Think of something that makes you happy. Me hanging from a noose if that does the trick."

Emma couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped her, feeling her mouth turn up at the corners. Gold smiled himself.

"See, that wasn't too difficult."

His phone started to ring and he pulled it out, moving away. "I have to take this."

Emma watched him limp into the office and close the door behind him, and she waited a moment before returning to the studio. Belle was still there, flipping through fabric swatches, and she looked up as Emma entered.

"Feeling better?" she asked lightly.

Emma nodded. "It's weird. I really want Neal to be here, and at the same time, I can really see why they're so estranged."

"Yes," Belle agreed. "Although for all their differences, at heart they're the same. They're passionate and they care deeply, but about different things. I knew Neal as a kid," she explained. "He was older than me, obviously, but Storybrooke's a small town and everyone knows everyone else."

She came over, pulling up a chair opposite Emma.

"It's true," she said. "This is all about letting your inner beauty show through. But that's the keyword - you have to let it. If you're used to hiding it away – for whatever reason, I'm not going to pry – then I get that it's hard. But it's easier to show it when you feel good on the outside as well, and vice versa. I know it'll sound stupid to you, but I hate wearing flat shoes. I feel like people are going to trip over me. As soon as I put my high heels on, I feel seven feet tall and like I can conquer the world. I don't wear them for anyone else, I don't wear them for others' approval. I just wear them for me, to make me feel better about myself. Caine says he can see me shrink when I take my shoes off, not just in physical height."

Emma nodded, stretching out her legs in front of her. She had spent so many years of her life being judged that she had trained herself not to care, that if people were going to judge her based on her troubled childhood and her appearance, then she would give them something to judge, she didn't care. It felt strange having to talk herself out of that mentality now.

"I know. I understand. I can barely walk in high heels, but I do understand."

"You do need to adjust your centre of gravity a bit." Belle got up and went over to the shoe cupboard, rifling through it and finding a mid-heeled pair in Emma's size. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tie a sheet round you. But don't look at the ground, it doesn't help your balance at all. Trust me."

Emma put the shoes on and stood up. She knew she was going to have to stop fighting, because she had to do this assignment and this was the only way that she could do it. Belle walked up and down the studio with her, keeping pace and encouraging her, and then the door opened.

"Everything ok in here?" Neal had poked his head into the room. "Has Dad left you in the lurch?"

"He's on the phone," Emma said. "Talking to someone called Jefferson, I think."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Ok, interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"Nothing. I didn't realise he and Jeff were still in business. Anyway, I've pulled a few strings. I know Dad's good, but he can't do everything."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Possibly the van that's just pulled up outside and the small army of hairdressers getting out of it," Belle mused, peering out of the window.

"What?" Emma rushed over, only wobbling once in the high heels.

"Highly-trained FBI hairdressers, I'll have you know," Neal said. "Like I said, Dad's good, but he's not a beautician."

"I don't need beautifying, Neal!"

"No, you just need a helping hand." Gold had come into the room, stowing his phone back inside his jacket. "All right, let's get this show on the road."

Belle left them at that point; there was nothing else that she could do, but she gave Emma a bright smile and wished her luck, and Neal beat a hasty retreat as the new arrivals came up the stairs to the studio. Gold stayed long enough to direct them, and Emma sat back, preparing herself for being pawed and prodded and poked in the name of national security. It was going to be a very long day.

X

"Thanks for that, I was beginning to wonder whether we'd have time."

Neal looked up from where he was sitting at the top of the steps when Gold came out of the studio. From within, Emma could be heard protesting: "what are you going to do to my teeth?!"

Neal shrugged. "I figured I'd help out if I could, since you're doing this at short notice."

Gold settled himself on the step beside his son, stretching out his bad leg and giving a long sigh. "Ironic that this is the thing to bring you back to Storybrooke."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing myself." Neal leaned back against the bannister. "This doesn't necessarily mean I've forgiven you. It just means I accept that you're the best at what you do, however detrimental to our relationship it was."

"You have to understand why I was working all the time."

"I know why you were working all the time. I know you were trying to provide for my future, and I am grateful for that, but only with hindsight. I was just a kid, Dad, and you can't expect a kid to understand or appreciate that. It's no use providing for a future if you're not there for the present, it defeats the object. As kids we're only concerned with the there and then."

"I know. You have to believe me that losing you will always be my biggest regret."

"And yet you still do this, even after all that."

"I know." Gold's eyes were closed, his fingers tight around the handle of his cane. "I know. Because after you left, it was all I had. I'd lost you thanks to this, so I had to keep going with it otherwise losing you would have been for nothing."

"You're making it sound like I'd fallen through a portal to pixieland," Neal said dryly. "I was in Boston, Dad, it's not exactly worlds away."

“I know. But in my many years of experience, Neal, people who leave do not come back.”

“Well, sometimes you need to put a bit of effort into getting them back.”

Gold raised a weary eyebrow. “Really,” he said flatly.

“Yes! Ok, I know that you couldn’t have done anything about your own dad leaving, and I know you couldn’t have done anything about Mum leaving, but sometimes you have to dig your heels in and fight. You can’t just give up!” Neal’s shoulders sagged; as much as he really didn’t want to be having this conversation in such tense circumstances on such a tight schedule, it was a conversation that hadn’t happened for fifteen years and really needed to. “That’s what it felt like. When I left, it felt like you just stopped. You just gave up.”

“Because you’d gone!” Gold said vehemently. “Of course I gave up!”

“You could have come after me! You could have fought for me!”

“You made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me again and I respected your wishes!”

“If you love someone, Dad, you never stop fighting for them!”

“No! If you love someone, you let them go! I let you go because I loved you! For God’s sake, Neal, how is that so hard to understand? You let them go, and if they come back then it’s meant to be, and if they don’t then that’s meant to be as well. You didn’t come back!”

“Jesus…” Neal got to his feet, raking his hands through his hair. “You’re impossible, you know that? I was thirteen years old. You cannot expect your own son to be responsible for your wellbeing, parenting doesn’t work like that!”

“How… How on earth are you interpreting it like that?”

“You know what, this conversation is over. I knew as soon as I got here that we’d end in an argument.” Neal threw his hands up in a gesture of defeat. “I’m going to get the crew dinner from Granny’s and get Emma the biggest bear claw they have and you are gonna let her eat the damn thing.”

“I wouldn’t dream of denying her; I do not and have never made my ladies diet. But this conversation can’t be over. I want to understand, Neal, and I can’t do that if whenever I start trying, you back off and stop talking.”

There was a pause. “You’ll want iced tea and a hamburger, right?” Neal asked. “Extra pickles?”

“Of course.”

In spite of his tumultuous thoughts, Neal had to smile. “Some things it’s good to know never change.”

“Neal, I can’t change if I don’t know what to change.”

Neal looked down at his father. The older man was the most open and honest that Neal had ever seen him, and sitting on the steps, leaning on his cane with his ankle stretched out, he looked so old and broken. Despite the limp, Neal had always known his father as a strong, powerful figure, short in stature but larger than life in presence.

“You don’t let people go, Dad. You push them away. You push them away, and you close off and hole up and you put all the responsibility of fixing the situation onto them. That’s what you’re doing now. You pushed me away, and you closed up and expected me to do all the fixing. I was thirteen, Dad. Thirteen. You can’t put that kind of responsibility on a kid. Sometimes you’ve just got to man up, stop being such a damn coward, and take a leap of faith.”

 “But what if you hadn’t come back even then?”

Gold’s voice was soft, a little cracked, and Neal couldn’t stay there any longer in case he said something that he regretted. He shook his head, moving past his father on the stairs to go out to Granny’s.

“At least you would have tried.”

X

Gold had gone from the stairs when Neal got back with Granny in tow, helping him to carry all the bags of food.

“You know, I’ve been wondering what’s been going on in here all day,” Granny was saying as they came up towards the studio. “It looks like something out of extreme makeover of the century.”

“Not too extreme, I hope,” Neal murmured. He hadn’t seen Emma since the beauty team had arrived and he didn’t want her to be unrecognisable when she came out of the studio. He had brought her to his dad to give her that extra confidence boost that he knew she needed, to get her into the headspace of a contestant so that she could blend in. Anything more than that and she wouldn’t be Emma any more. He needed her to be Emma. It was Emma that he had chosen for this assignment, not anyone else. He tapped on the door, resting his head against the cool wood. So much time going past with so much ill-feeling and it had all come down to a five minute blow out in the stairwell, but at least the air felt somewhat clearer now. It had taken fifteen years for him to even realise what it was that had happened between him and his father to cause their rift in the first place, and it was only now that he could really articulate his feelings and get them out in the open. There was no hope of them working through all their issues without first knowing what those issues were. He knew that his dad didn’t mean anything maliciously, and that was the problem: he was completely unaware of what he was doing and so he was going to continue doing it. Neal thought about Belle, and the way she talked about Gold and the way she acted around him, that shy little blush and secret smile. Belle was a genuinely lovely lady and Neal could not and would not let her get hurt in the same way he had been when his father inevitably froze up and pushed her out instead of letting her in.

“One moment,” Gold’s voice said through the wood. “We’re nearly ready.”

“Well, don’t keep us waiting out here too long, Gold,” Granny called. “Your food’s going cold and the soda’s getting warm. And you owe me extra for the pickles.”

“Of course, Mrs Lucas,” Gold replied with a long-suffering sigh.

“Don’t worry, Granny,” Neal said with a grin, dumping his bags on the floor and taking the other ones from her. “It’s on the bureau tonight.”

Granny winked at him. “I know. Never hurts to remind him though.” She patted Neal’s shoulder. “You’re doing great, Neal. I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved, and I’m sure that whatever you and he are cooking up in there, you’ll do great. Just be patient with him, yeah? Leopards can’t change their spots overnight, no matter how much they want to.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s the wanting to part that I’m having doubts about.”

“Don’t. He can be a demon sometimes, but he’s your father and he loves you. Don’t doubt that.”

Granny left them with a final reassuring touch to his arm, and then the studio door opened. Gold poked his head around it. He was wearing a small, satisfied smile, and he picked up a couple of the take-out bags, opening the door wider for Neal to come in.

“We’re ready.”

Neal entered the room, and the crew of beauticians stepped back, presenting him with Emma.

To Neal’s intense relief, she was still the Emma he’d last seen. Sure, her hair was glossier and in soft, sleek waves, and he would miss her gawky specs, and she was wearing make-up which he’d never seen her do, but she hadn’t changed. She was still Emma.

“How do I look?” she asked nervously.

“You look great,” Neal said, completely wrong-footed by how she could still be Emma and yet be different at the same time. “You don’t really look any different.”

Emma’s face screwed up into a frown. “Seriously? I spent all afternoon being prodded and plucked and primped and blow-dried and I look exactly the same?”

“Not exactly the same!” Neal said hastily. “What I mean is, you still look like Emma. You still look like yourself. Just…”

Better? No, that wasn’t the word as it implied that she wasn’t good to start with, which she was; there had been nothing wrong with her appearance.

“Bolder,” Gold supplied quietly from the doorway behind him. “She’s still Emma, but she’s got that extra little something.”

“Yes.” Neal nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, that’s just it.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Now, did you bring me a doughnut?”

Neal dug around in the bag and tossed her the bear claw in its paper.

“Would I let you down?”

Emma shook her head. “Well, you haven’t yet.”

They all sat around on the floor to eat since there weren’t enough chairs, except for Gold whose ankle was playing up and Emma, whom Gold insisted on working on her posture whilst she was in a good mood.

“You know, working on my posture is not going to keep me in a good mood,” Emma pointed out.

Gold just laughed. “Accept it, you’re sitting up properly and eating delicately. Come on, you’re doing so well and I can see there’s that little spark in you that wasn’t there before. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“But I’m exhausted!” Emma moaned. “I’ve had a very stressful day! You try having a manicure and pedicure and hot air blasted at your face and weird strips of paper being stuck on your nose and all kinds of suspicious stuff being done to your teeth!” She ran her tongue over her front teeth. “They feel really strange, are you sure you didn’t bleach them?”

“Cross my heart,” the dental hygienist said. “How many times do I have to tell you it was just a scale and polish?”

The room gradually fell into silence as everyone ate. It was a pretty surreal experience and not one that Neal would ever have guessed at happening to him. His phone buzzed with the arrival of a message and he looked at it.

_Plane’s chartered, all you have to do is get to Boston tomorrow. See you there. Bill._

Another message followed.

_How’s Em doing?_

Neal smiled.

_She’s absolutely stunning._


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

“Ok, this is probably one of the coolest experiences of my life.” Belle was looking around the private jet that the bureau had chartered for the flight to San Antonio; since Gold was going with them it was only right to give Belle a lift too. Billy and Lance were dozing at the very back. For all the time that Neal and Emma had been prepping in Storybrooke, they had been sorting out the logistics, sourcing all the tech and weaponry that they would need on the operation.

“Well, don’t get used to it,” Neal said. “Even we don’t get this treatment very often, we’re normally stuck in coach with the rest of you.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Gold said from his seat, without looking up from his work, pencil moving over the page in swift strokes. Emma kept leaning over to see what he was drawing but he was very astute at hiding it from her. “If you win the pageant, you’ll get this more than you think for your crowned year.”

“Yes.” Belle sat back in her chair with a little sigh. “And then, back to college. I can’t wait, I’ve been away too long. All the friends I made there will have graduated.”

Emma pulled out one earbud. Unable to really practice walking in high heels on a moving airplane, Gold had set her up with a bunch of DVDs of past pageants as research and was making her watch them. He had the uncanny knack of glancing over at her just when she was about to switch to Minesweeper and it was seriously starting to grate on her nerves.

Although there wasn’t a swimsuit in sight, and Emma was very glad of that. However much she had been assured, she’d still had that niggling worry.

The laptop screen went black as the current tape ended and Emma found herself staring at her reflection. Neal had said that she didn’t look any different, but both Billy and Lance had raised their eyebrows when they had met up at the airport earlier. She could barely recognise herself, this strange new person with lovely hair and eyes that weren’t armoured by awful glasses and shiny white teeth. Gold had said that she looked bolder, but she really didn’t feel bolder. As the days of reckoning drew ever closer, she didn’t think she’d ever felt less brave in her life.

She shook herself crossly and started up the next video on the laptop, her image disappearing from the screen not a moment too soon. She wasn’t going to this pageant to be scared or brave. She was going to catch a terrorist and prevent harm coming to the rest of the ladies there, the ladies like Belle, who hadn’t done anything wrong and just wanted to go back to college by any means necessary. She was going to do her job, and if doing her job meant dressing up and twirling round and smiling till her jaw ached, then so be it.

The thought bolstered her confidence and she sat up a little straighter in her seat. She could do this. She was good at her job, if unorthodox in her methods.

“Hey.”

She looked up; Neal was hovering beside her.

“Hey.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Well, I still think your dad has a maniacal work ethic.”

Neal snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“But I’m doing ok. You?”

“Yeah.” Neal’s brow was furrowed and Emma raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not doing ok, I can tell. Come on, tell me what’s up.” She closed the laptop on Miss Fairytale Nevada 2010’s final interview and stood up, moving away from Gold and Belle to the front of the plane. “Is it your dad?” she asked, voice low and measured.

“No. Well, yeah we had an argument last night before dinner and we haven’t really discussed that yet, but that’s not the problem. I’ve just got a bad feeling; something’s not right. I was running background checks on Killian.”

“Cora’s pervy assistant?”

“He’s the one. Something in the back of my mind just struck me as familiar about him, but I couldn’t place him. Nothing came up on his search; clean as a whistle, ex-navy guy. I even asked Lance if he knew him from NCIS, but nothing.”

Emma nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on him and see what I can find out.”

“Thanks Em.”

“You know, I feel really bad,” Emma began. “For the past couple of days you’ve been doing all the legwork on this assignment, you and Lance and Billy, and all I’ve been doing is being taught how to sit and walk and smile and harness my inner beauty and all that crap. I haven’t exactly been doing any work.”

“You’ve been doing your job,” Neal said firmly. “It just so happens that it’s kind of different this time around. Your work starts today when you start schmoozing with your fellow contestants and picking up whatever information you can find, and we can just sit back in a hotel room and watch you do what you do best.”

“Being a pageant queen is not what I do best,” Emma said pointedly.

Neal gave her a look. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Yeah, I’m messing with you.”

“I know.” He grinned. “Anyway, speaking of you going to work, we’ve got some things for you. Earpiece like normal; the usual signals for if you can’t hear us. You’re going patriotic with your camera.” He handed her a star-spangled banner badge and Emma pinned it to her state sash. “Mic’s in there too. And your ID.”

Emma looked down at her picture, taken last night after Gold and the stylists had finished her transformation. She still thought she looked nothing like her normal self. Emma Nolan. It was an alias she’d used undercover before, so it would stand up well if necessary. Not that she was really expecting anyone to question it.

“You’re going to be fine, Massachusetts,” Neal said. “Just be yourself.”

“Not the best advice to give someone going undercover, Neal.”

Neal just winked at her. “Come on, we’ll be there soon. We’ve arranged for a taxi for Belle and Dad, they’ll go first and we’ll follow them.”

Emma nodded, it would look strange if all three of them were to arrive together, especially given the usual rule of one competitor per coach.

“Just keep your eyes on Killian and we’ll be right behind you every step of the way.”

Emma nodded and went back to sit down. It was going to be another very long day, and this was only the beginning.

X

Arriving at the hotel which was serving as base of operations for the pageant, Emma was beginning to have serious doubts about her ability to pull this off. When it had just been Belle that she was up against, she was all right, because Belle knew what was going on and had the added advantage of being really nice. Now there were forty-eight other ladies to contend with and they were all unknowns. One of them might very well be a crazed maniac out to destroy the pageant. She searched desperately through the sea of perfectly coiffed heads for someone very tiny accompanied by a man with a cane, but Belle and Gold were nowhere to be seen. Still, there was nothing to be gained by sitting in the back of a taxi all morning.

“Ok, here goes nothing.” Emma stepped out of the car and looked around as it drove away. She felt horribly alone. “Can you hear me ok boys?”

_“Loud and clear, Em,”_ Neal’s voice said in her ear. _“You getting us?”_

“Yep.”

_“We won’t have visual till we set up in the hotel but your camera’s still recording; we’ll wait for all the ladies to leave for the welcome breakfast at the convention centre then get cracking. Go on and knock ‘em dead.”_

 “Solid advice for someone trying to catch a would-be killer, Neal. I don’t think your sense of humour’s improved at all since Quantico.”

_“Of course it hasn’t. Go on, you’re looking a bit like a lost sheep.”_

“I am a lost sheep, Neal. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much hairspray in my entire life. If there was ever a place I do not belong, it is this one.” She found the unmarked FBI van parked up behind a hedge and glared at it, hoping that Neal would be able to see her expression from this distance.

“Miss Nolan.”

Emma spun around, wobbled slightly on her high heels and saw Cora Mills coming towards her with a somewhat stunned expression on her face.

“Well, it appears that miracles are possible after all. And to whom do we owe this remarkable transformation?”

Emma gave a thin-lipped smile, wishing that it wasn’t a very bad idea to smack the pageant host and organiser in the jaw.

“A friend,” she said. “Your lack of faith is positively encouraging, Ms Mills,” she added sweetly. Cora’s eyes narrowed.

“Why don’t you go and make yourself at home and meet some of the other ladies; we’re about to set off for the welcome breakfast. Someone will fetch your bags up to your room.” She put a firm hand on Emma’s shoulder, steering her away from the taxi, and Emma fought the urge to roll her shoulder blades and shake her off. She knew that Cora was going to be keeping as close an eye on her as Emma herself was keeping on the other contestants, and it was something she was going to have to grin and bear.

Killian was ticking contestants off on a clipboard as they got onto the bus, giving each one a thorough leer as they came past him and making somewhat inappropriate comments. Emma saw Miss Georgia ‘accidentally’ smack him with her handbag as she stalked past him after he complimented her ‘nice peach’ and she had to smile to herself. At least there was one other person here with enough gumption to stand up for themselves.

“Massachusetts, welcome…” Killian tailed off, looking Emma up and down several times and raising an eyebrow with a wolfish grin. “Well, you do scrub up well, don’t you?”

“Killian, we haven’t got all day!” Cora snapped, giving Emma a little shove towards the steps of the bus. Emma, who had been distracted trying to work out how best to kill the disgusting man in as quick and unnoticeable and yet still painful a way as possible, stumbled straight into his leather jacketed arms.

“Woah, no need to throw yourself at me sweetheart, there’s plenty to go round.”

Emma fumed silently and pointedly stamped on his foot with her stiletto as she regained her ground and sprang out of his hold on her.

_“Don’t rise to it.”_ Neal’s voice in her ear had a warning tone.

“I swear I will have his balls on a plate by the time I am through with this ordeal,” Emma said through clenched teeth as she climbed up the steps as gracefully as she could, looking around the bus frantically for Belle. The little brunette was seated near the back on the aisle side, looking poised and aloof and subtly warding off all the attempts of the others to try and take the window seat beside her. As soon as she saw Emma she smiled and moved up, patting the seat.

“I figured you might appreciate a friendly face for this first day, at least,” she said under her breath as Emma sat down gratefully.

“Thanks.” She wondered just how much she was going to end up relying on Belle to get her through the pageant, having someone on the inside that she could talk to who knew what was going on. She looked around the bus at all the other ladies. “Do you know any of these women?”

“I’ve met a few of them before,” Belle said. “I didn’t go through and memorise the welcome pamphlet or anything, but you might want to take a look at it and pick out a few names and faces. Miss Louisiana’s really nice, we were talking before you arrived, and I’ve met Miss New Hampshire; she takes herself a bit too seriously. You’ll get to know everyone over the course of the event, so don’t sweat it. We’re busy doing stuff most days after all, you’re not expected to be everyone’s best friend.”

Emma looked down at the pamphlet that she’d been given on the journey from Storybrooke but hadn’t had a chance to look at. Flicking through the glossy pages, she saw forty-nine dazzling smiling faces staring back at her, with the usual biographical spiel. The Massachusetts picture was suspiciously blank, and Emma looked up to see a couple of the other ladies staring at her, whispering behind their hands. Great, she was already the odd one out and now she had even more work to do to blend in; it wasn’t as if she had enough to do already.

She read off her biography. _Emma Nolan, Massachusetts, aged twenty-eight. Science major training to be a veterinarian._ She rolled her eyes, still not able to believe that Neal had taken her up on the vet thing. She would have to have some strong words with him about that later, but now it would be too noticeable that she was talking to herself.

The last contestant, Miss Kansas, boarded the bus in a clatter of high heels and then Cora and Killian got on.

“If they make us sing Disney singalong songs for the journey I am jumping out of the emergency escape,” Emma muttered to Belle, who bit her lip trying not to laugh as Cora addressed them all.

“Welcome, ladies, I hope you have all had pleasant journeys to get here today. As is traditional for the Miss Fairytale USA pageant, we will begin with the welcome breakfast at the convention centre, and then the first rehearsals and walk through of the interview preliminary and live finale in two days’ time. After that, you have the rest of the day free to settle into your rooms and get to know each other.” She paused, looking fondly at each lady in turn with a degree of motherliness that Emma found somewhat disconcerting. “Although at the end of the day, the crown can only go to one lady, one of the core values of this event is togetherness, and if there’s one thing that all of my previous contestants have said when they leave once the finale is over, it’s that they have made such good friends whilst they were here. I hope that you all do the same.”

There was a smattering of polite applause and Cora took a seat as the bus moved off. There were some spontaneous bursts of ‘When You Wish Upon A Star’ from a group of girls at the front, and Emma raised an eyebrow, wondering if they’d had a bit too much Dutch courage before arriving. The pageant was officially dry; maybe they’d gone overboard to make up for the next four days without alcohol. Beside her, Belle’s shoulders were shaking with the effort of trying not to laugh. Hopefully, as long as she had Miss Maine’s moral support, she wouldn’t go completely mad by the end of the day, and she was extremely pleased to find that she and Belle had been put on the same table at the welcome breakfast.

“Boys, you got visual yet?” Emma hissed under her breath as she moved through into the dining room, following Belle over to the table.

_“Yes, we’re all set here. Nothing out of the ordinary so far, just tell us if anything sets your spidey senses tingling.”_

“You’re awful.”

_“You love me really.”_

“Don’t count on it.”

“Pardon?”

Emma glanced to her left to find Miss Arizona giving her a perplexed look.

“Nothing, nothing. You look lovely.”

Arizona shook her head with a muttered ‘weirdo’ and took a seat at her table.

“This is us,” Belle called over to her, and Emma hurried to catch up. “Ok, introductions, I’m not sure who’s met and who hasn’t. Ladies, this is Emma Nolan, Massachusetts. Emma, this is Tiana Grenouille, Louisiana; Elsa Snow, Alaska; Nani Pelekai, Hawaii; Aurora Briar, Washington.”

“Call me Rory,” Aurora said, her voice almost pleading, then she counted up chairs. “We’re missing someone, who are we waiting for?”

“Kansas, I think,” Tiana said, patting the empty seat next to her and indicating for Emma to sit with a smile.

“Time-keeping seems to be an issue for her,” Nani observed. “She was the last one to arrive at the hotel as well. Still, no need to stand on ceremony when we’re all starving.” She grabbed a bagel from the plate of pastries in the centre of the table and applied a liberal helping of cream cheese, Miss Kansas arriving at the table a moment later.

“Emerald West, Kansas,” she announced as she sat down.

“Hey Kansas,” the others greeted, and then the business of eating and making small talk truly began. Emma sat back with her cherry Danish, observing the other ladies on her table. Nani and Tiana had the personality, talking easily to the rest of the women. Rory was quieter but Belle had engaged her. Elsa looked nervous, her face pale and drawn, as if she was about to throw up. She had a chocolate pastry on her plate but was just picking it to pieces, none of the crumbs actually going anywhere near her mouth. Emma’s brow furrowed, something was wrong there but she didn’t know what, and she couldn’t ask because Emerald was sitting between them. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to make it look like she was chewing a large mouthful.

“I’ve got Alaska acting strange,” she muttered to her mic. “Might just be first day nerves, I’ll keep an eye out.”

_“Copy,”_ Neal said. _“Say, Em, could you save me a pastry? We haven’t had breakfast here.”_

Emma didn’t reply, but took great relish in taking a big bite out of her Danish and showing the half-eaten thing to her camera.

_“Em!”_

“So, you must be Emma!”

Emma swallowed hastily and turned to Emerald, who was smiling broadly, a smile that showed too many teeth, like a crocodile. The red-head was leaning in just a little too close for comfort.

“I knew it must be you because I didn’t recognise you from the pamphlet,” she continued. “What happened to Ashley? I thought she’d got the crown in Massachusetts; I was keeping up with all the state prelims.”

“Let her breathe, Emerald,” Tiana said from Emma’s other side. “People drop out all the time, it’s no big deal.”

“Ashley’s got some… personal issues,” Emma said succinctly, and the other ladies at the table all looked at each other.

“Pregnant,” Nani, Tiana and Rory said in unison.

Emma spread her hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But still, you’re here now, and we’re very happy to have you,” Emerald said quickly, trying to draw Emma’s attention back to her. Emma groaned inwardly, she wasn’t sure that she could take Emerald’s level of happy on a half-empty stomach. “Are you excited? I can’t wait to meet everyone; I think it’s just so wonderful how so many different ladies from so many different walks of life can come together from all over the country and get along so well!”

The rest of the table’s conversations had fallen silent, the other ladies all watching Emerald’s enthusiastic gesticulating with amusement. Emerald took it all in her stride.

“Sorry!” she said, waving at the other ladies. “Me and my big mouth. I get so carried away sometimes. Where was I?”

_Anywhere but talking to me, please_ , Emma thought desperately.

“Everyone getting along so well,” Tiana said. “I know what you mean; there’s a real sense of solidarity. After all, we’re all winners in our own right, we all have something in common.”

If looks could kill, Emerald’s glare at Tiana would have sent her six feet under.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she snapped.

Tiana just shrugged, spreading her hands. “It’s a round table, honey. Just attempting to get along so well, as you put it.”

The brewing argument was ended before it had begun with the chinking of a fork against crystal, and all eyes turned to the front of the room where Cora was standing up to the lectern. Emma wondered why they were getting a rerun of her welcome speech from the bus, then realised that the pageant contestants were not the only ones at the breakfast and there were sponsors and network directors sitting at the top tables. This was the ‘official’ welcome speech, the one with all the sucking up.

“As some of you are no doubt aware, this is going to be my last year as director of the Miss Fairytale USA pageant, before I retire and hand over to the more than capable hands of my daughter Regina, so I intend for this to be our most exciting programme yet!” Cora was saying, and Emma’s ears pricked up.

“Neal,” she hissed as there was a round of polite applause for Regina, who was sitting at the top table next to the empty place her mother had occupied. They looked very alike, the same sharp smile and calculating eyes, and Emma wondered if the daughter also shared the snippy demeanour.

_“Yep, hearing her loud and clear. She forgot to mention that when we were talking to her last week.”_

“Keeping it in the family though,” Emma muttered, just as the applause returned to silence, and Cora’s eyes fell on her, one eyebrow arching in disapproval.

“Is something wrong, Miss Massachusetts?”

“No, erm…” Emma gave a pathetic-sounding cough. “Just… Danish crumbs… down the wrong way.”

“Oh no!” Emerald smacked her between the shoulder blades and Emma winced. “Is that better?”

“Wonderful. Thanks.” She looked back to Cora. “Sorry about that.”

Cora sniffed emphatically and continued her speech.

_“Nice save,”_ Billy said in her ear, and Emma let out a long breath, staring down at the crumbs in her lap to try and avoid making eye contact with anyone, especially Cora. She couldn’t afford any more screw-ups, especially when Cora knew exactly who she was and why she was there, and could expose her and ruin their operation at any moment.

“So I suppose that all that remains to be said is: let’s go out with a bang!”

Well, that didn’t sound ominous at all.

The speech was over at last and the ladies were left to go back to their breakfasts until the time came for the rehearsal. Cora’s imminent departure was the only topic of conversation, and it was quickly established that no-one on the table had known in advance and no-one knew why it was happening. By the time they left the dining room, Emma would have been quite happy never to hear Cora Mills’ name again. All the same, it did raise a question in her mind, and it gave her a small measure of pride to know that her being undercover had already pulled up some points of interest that they would not otherwise have had.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

The rehearsals for the preliminaries and the live TV broadcast took most of the rest of the day, and Emma was grateful when she could finally get back into her room and collapse on her bed.

“Neal,” she said, muffled in the pillow, “are you there?”

_“He’s just stepped outside, he got a call from Spencer,”_ Lance’s voice said. _“Anything we can do?”_

“Nah,” Emma rolled over and shook her head. “Just checking in whilst I still have the room to myself. I don’t know who my roommate is yet, but if it’s Kansas I think I’m gonna scream. That woman has way, way too much energy to be healthy and I didn’t think you could fit that many teeth into a smile.”

Lance laughed. _“At least you can’t fault her enthusiasm.”_

“No, just everything else.”

_“You’re going to be fine. I think Gold and Neal had a bit of a fiddle with the room bookings.”_

Emma raised an eyebrow and heaved herself off the bed, going over to look at the baggage sat on the other twin, carefully turning the tags over to read _B. French, Storybrooke, Maine_.

“Oh, thank the lord for that. Tell Neal I will buy him as many doughnuts as he wants when I next see him.”

_“Will do. We’ve run extra checks on Elsa Snow, nothing came up. Twenty-one years old, she’s spent all her life in a small fishing town in Alaska, lives with a sixteen-year-old sister who’s also come up clean. Half-Danish on her mother’s side, both parents dead in a boat accident four years ago. I think it must just be nerves.”_

“Well, I’ll keep my eyes on Killian. More specifically I’ll keep my eyes on Killian’s hands to make sure they’re nowhere near the asses of any of the ladies. Now I’m even more grateful that there isn’t a swimsuit competition; I think they might have had to sedate him. He’s like a dog in heat.”

_“All right, we’ll keep quiet now Em. You get some rest, you’ve earned it.”_

“Thanks Lance.”

There was a soft tap at the door and then the electronic clunk of a keycard opening it, and Belle’s head peered around. She smiled when she saw Emma slumped on her bed.

“Hello again. Do you think this was deliberate?”

Emma gave a small nod. “I guess it means I don’t need to worry about trying not to look like I’m talking to myself when I’ve got the guys in my ear,” she said. “Where’ve you been? I was about to send out a search party for my absent roommate.”

“Ugh, Emerald cornered me. Once she’s got her claws in that’s it, there’s no escape. She can talk the hind legs off a donkey.”

“And the front ones,” Emma agreed. “Nice to have a friendly face though. I pity whoever’s rooming with her.”

Belle laughed. “I have visions of some poor unfortunate soul dragging her quilt and pillow in here and asking to bunk up because she can’t stand the chatter anymore.” She kicked off her heels and wiggled her toes in the carpet. “Do you want the bathroom first? I know I take ages; my dad used to despair when I lived with him.”

“Sure.” Emma took her earpiece out and hid it carefully in its cover in her purse. Belle gave a small smile when she saw it. “I’m not supposed to take it out,” Emma admitted. “But I really don’t like the idea of them being able to talk to me randomly when I’m in the shower.”

Belle drew an exaggerated cross over her heart and giggled as Emma slipped into the bathroom. “I won’t tell.”

For all the unfamiliar dresses and ballgowns that she would be forced to wear during the course of the pageant, Emma had put her foot down and insisted on being able to bring her own pyjamas, her absolute favourite pair in worn terrycloth emblazoned with Muppet characters. Belle smiled when she saw them.

“Those are so cute. My mum had a pair just like them. She loved the Muppets. We played ‘It’s Not Easy Being Green’ at her funeral, which raised a few eyebrows. Kermit never fails to make me smile.”

Emma was somewhat wrong-footed by this frank statement and blinked, unsure how to respond.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” she said eventually.

“Thanks.”

She sat down on the edge of her bed, wondering. Belle was a fairly quiet sort, not the type to give out rather personal anecdotes like that to anyone. That seemed more like something Emerald would do. But no, she and Belle had developed that easy camaraderie that made them feel… safe, she supposed. Perhaps it was because they were both in on the same secret, although Belle didn’t know the full extent of why Emma was in the pageant in the first place and had not enquired. It inspired an atmosphere of confidentiality and the confidence to share these truths. Maybe she could get a bit more out of Belle about her feelings towards Gold now.

Emma sighed and swung her legs up into bed, getting comfortable beneath the covers. It really wasn’t any of her business what Belle and Gold’s relationship was, and if it hadn’t been for someone threatening to blow the pageant to smithereens she would never have met either of them, so what did it matter to her?

X

Emma had just dropped off to sleep when there was a tapping sound at the patio door, and she sat bolt upright, grabbing her gun where she had secreted it in her nightstand and slipping out of bed. The tapping came again, and she could make out the outline of a figure through the voiles.

“Em!”

It was Neal’s voice, and Emma rolled her eyes, double-checking the safety on her gun and shoving it into the back of her pyjama pants before going over and unlocking the patio door, sliding it open a fraction.

“It’s the middle of the night, Neal, what are you doing here?” she hissed.

“You took your earpiece out, how else was I supposed to contact you?” Neal replied vehemently. “Nice pyjamas, by the way.”

Emma made to smack him upside the head but he ducked away. “Seriously, Neal, why are you here? What’s so urgent?”

“Emma?” Belle’s sleepy voice whispered, and Emma glanced back into the darkness to see her roommate’s face poking out from under the covers. “Is everything ok?”

“And now you’ve woken Belle up too!” Emma exclaimed. “What’s going on?”

“Dad wants to see you for another practice session, something about not falling down stairs in heels and interview practice.” Neal peered into the room. “Sorry Belle.”

“S’ok.” The brunette shuffled down under her quilt again, turning away from the window.

“At this time? When my brain and body have a severe disconnect? Does the man ever sleep?”

“I don’t think he does,” said Belle’s muffled voice.

Emma sighed. “All right, all right, I’m coming. I need to talk to him about the talent competition anyway, it’s the one thing he neglected to mention.”

She grabbed her coat and put it on over her pyjamas, stomping moodily out of the room after Neal and following him over to the waiting van.

“If I fall flat on my face tomorrow because I’ve dropped off to sleep thanks to being at the beck and call of an insomniac workaholic…” she yawned.

“I’ve got you covered, don’t worry,” Neal said. “It’s probably not a lot of comfort to you right now but I’m here. I’m not going to leave you with him and go back to bed.”

They reached the convention centre quickly, no traffic on the roads at that time. Gold was standing on the stage looking up at all the half-built scenery that would be brought to life in three days’ time.

“This had better be good, Gold,” Emma grumbled.

“I swear that I am doing this only for your own benefit, Miss Swan, or should I say Miss Nolan. Put some heels on please, we’re practising stairs, and some interview questions whilst we’re at it. Kill two birds with one stone.”

Emma grabbed the pair of practice stilettos that Gold was holding out to her and trudged to the top of the staircase free-standing in the middle of the stage.

“You know, I feel this would be a lot less dangerous if we were to do it when the staircase has been fully built, you know?” she called down as she strapped the shoes on.

“I hate to break it to you, but once this staircase is fully built, we’ll only have about two hours in which to practise on it,” Gold replied levelly. “I’ve been to enough of these things to know that everything always happens at the last minute.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that feeling a lot,” Emma muttered. “And besides, before I even get to walking down stairs and answering interview questions, I have to get through tomorrow first. What do you want me to do for my talent?”

“What do you mean?”

“My talent, Gold. What did you have in mind for my talent? Or have you forgotten that part of the programme exists, since you conveniently forgot to mention it?”

There was no response, and Emma looked down to see Gold with his face buried in one palm.

“Neal!” he yelled over to his son. “We have a problem!”

“What’s wrong?”

Emma wobbled down the steps in her too-high shoes and came over to them.

“I can do a lot, Neal, and some people have even said I have performed miracles before now, but I cannot magic Emma a talent out of thin air.”

There was a long silence. “Right,” Neal said eventually. “This could prove a problem.”

“She can’t go through a talent segment with no talent,” Gold said bluntly, and Emma snorted.

“Thanks. I am standing right here, you know.”

Neal rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We can fix this, there’s still time. What have you got Belle doing?”

“Belle’s been doing ballet and gymnastics since she was four. I haven’t got Belle doing anything, she’s provided that part entirely of her own accord,” Gold said, his voice clipped. He turned to Emma. “What are you good at?” he asked. “Can you sing? Dance? Play a musical instrument? I had a girl who played the water glasses once, that was… interesting. Making balloon animals? Impersonating heads of state?”

“All right, all right, I get it, I need a talent, any talent.” Emma threw her hands up in defeat. “Seriously, Neal, you know that the only thing I’m good at is being an FBI agent, and right now I don’t feel like I’m doing any good at that.”

It was as if a lightbulb had gone off above Neal’s head.

“Yes. That’s it. You are an FBI agent, a good one, and you know what you’re best at?”

Emma shrugged, and couldn’t stop a huge yawn from escaping her.

“Throwing the rulebook out the window and almost getting my colleagues killed?” she said sarcastically.

“No. Shooting. You have one of the best firearms sheets in the bureau: pistols, longarms, automatics, the lot.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “You really think they’ll let me shoot someone as my talent?”

“It’s a suggestion!” Neal exclaimed.

“No, Neal’s got a point.” Gold was thoughtful, one long finger tapping against his chin as he paced slowly up and down the stage. “They wouldn’t let you have live ammunition, it would have to be airsoft or paint, but I think it could work.”

“Despite the fact I would still be packing my very live, very deadly FBI gun?” Emma pointed out. Gold gave her a look.

“Yes, but no-one’s supposed to know about that, are they?” he said.

“Even so, I don’t think shooting is really in-keeping with the whole sweetness and light and fluffy Disney princess theme here,” Emma said, sitting down on bottom step of the structure and feeling it give a most unnerving wobble.

“Shooting is a perfectly legitimate hobby,” Gold said. “Especially in this country. And it’s certainly possible to make it slightly more little girl friendly.”

“How?”

Gold grinned as he pulled out his phone, although who he expected to get to help him at three o’clock in the morning was beyond Emma.

“Have you ever seen _Annie Get Your Gun_?”

X

It was beginning to get light as Neal walked Emma back to her room and she privately gave up on the notion of getting any sleep at all.

“Thank you,” Neal said as they reached the patio door. “I know this isn’t easy for you, and I just want you to know how much I appreciate what you’re doing.”

“Well, I don’t want to let you down, you know. This is your first big op, and I already bungle so much stuff; I don’t want to drag you down with me and hold you back.”

“I know.” For a moment Neal looked as if he was about to say something else, then he shook his head with a slight smile. “Get some rest. I’ll sneak you a doughnut when I can.”

“If you bring me any more doughnuts, Neal, I’ll turn into one.”

“I don’t think that would be so bad,” he said. “There are worse things that you could turn into.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Good night, Neal.”

“Night, Em.”

He slipped away into the shadows and Emma made to open the patio door when something caught the corner of her eye, someone moving furtively through the hotel garden. Slowly, carefully, her hand went round to the back of her waistband, fingers curling around the grip of her pistol.

“Who’s there?” she called out.

The figure came out into the dim light, and Emma immediately relaxed. It was Tiana.

“Thank God it’s you, Emma,” the other woman said. “I was worried one of the security guys was going to shop me to Cora. You won’t shop me to Cora, will you?” she added warily.

“Of course not. But Tiana, what are you doing out here?” She looked her friend up and down; she was fully-dressed so at least Emma had the advantage of pyjamas. “Where’ve you been?”

“I could ask you the same question, you know,” Tiana said with a mischievous smile.

“I couldn’t sleep, just needed some air. You?”

“Officially, the same.”

“All right.” Emma grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Unofficially?”

“I was meeting my fiancé. He’s here for the pageant and I said I’d try to sneak out and see him. So I did. I know it’s not exactly a long time to be without each other but sometimes you just need that support network, you know?”

Emma nodded, thinking of Neal and his many doughnuts. “Yeah, I know just what you mean. So, when’s the big day?”

“We’re not sure yet, but very soon. I wanted to put it off till after the pageant, I don’t think you can have a Miss Fairytale who’s actually a Mrs.” She laughed. “Naveen’s already planning the restaurant, I keep having to remind him I haven’t won yet.”

“Restaurant?”

“Yeah.” Tiana leaned back against the patio door. “If I win, I’m taking the money, not a scholarship, and I’m opening my own restaurant. It’s been my dream ever since I was tiny; cooking is my life. My dad taught me, and I just want to share all of his recipes with the world. There’s this wonderful building in New Orleans, right on the river; it’s absolutely gorgeous and I’ve had my eye on it for years, but waitressing tips aren’t exactly enough to buy it, and being where it is, the insurance is almost more than the place itself. But someday it’ll be mine. Tiana’s Palace, serving the best Cajun food in Louisiana.”

Emma smiled, and she remembered the conversation she’d had with Neal about why people would ever enter a pageant. Tiana and Belle were both so passionate about where they were going in life, and the pageant was just a means to an end for them. In a way it was quite inspiring, hearing the way Tiana talked about her dream and her determination to achieve it.

“Sorry,” Tiana said. “I should let you get back to sleep, don’t want to wake your roommate.”

“No, it’s ok, I probably won’t get any more sleep tonight.”

“Nervous about tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Considering she still didn’t exactly know what her talent was supposed to be, nervous was putting it mildly. “What’s your talent?”

Tiana looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I think I’m going to leave it as a surprise if you don’t mind,” she said. “It’s kind of… unique, and you have to see it. Explaining it doesn’t work quite as well.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Ok, well, colour me intrigued.”

“You?”

“Erm… Same.” She paused. “You know, I think I’m going to go for a run, clear my head. You’re welcome to join me.” An early morning run would give both her and Tiana alibis if they were discovered absent.

“Yeah, all right. Give me a sec to get changed and I’ll meet you out front.”

Tiana went into her own room and Emma turned to go into hers. She thought she caught the twitch of a curtain in the opposite wing of the hotel, but she put it down to her imagination. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it now.

A few minutes later found the two women jogging along through the dawn light. It felt good to be running again. There was no need to pretend when she was running; it was impossible to look graceful or elegant when you were dripping with sweat and panting.

“So who are you sharing with?” she asked Tiana presently. “Do you think they’ll kick up a fuss if they find out you were gone?”

“I’m in with Elsa, Alaska. I think I’m pretty safe with her. She’s in a little world of her own most of the time. I have to say that she doesn’t always look thrilled to be here, though. There’s something a bit off about her.”

“Yeah, I’d noticed that too,” Emma said. “She didn’t eat anything at breakfast. I thought it was just nerves, you know.”

“I was on a different table to her at dinner but now that you mention it, I don’t think I saw her eat at lunch either. Do you think we should be worried?”

“Not sure.”

“Well, I’ll keep an eye on her, ask her if she’s all right. I know that the stereotypical image of these pageants is that we all hate each other’s guts and secretly wish that someone will drop out to increase our chances of winning, but in my experience it’s never been like that. We care about each other.”

“Hmm.” Emma gave a non-committal nod. “I’m with Belle, Maine. She’s pretty cool, I don’t think I’ll have a problem.”

“She’s the tiny one with the Australian accent, right?”

“Yep, although she probably won’t forgive you for that. We’ll call her petite.”

“Yeah, good call.”

They continued to run on in silence for a while, and Emma made a mental note to check Tiana’s cover story of the clandestine meeting with her fiancé with the guys when she got back and put her earpiece in again. Although there were other pageant competitors exhibiting stranger behaviours, no-one could be ruled out. Speaking of strangeness, though…

“Do you know who’s sharing with our dear friend Emerald?” she asked presently.

“Mulan, from New York. Have you met her yet?”

Emma shook her head.

“Well, of all the ladies I’ve met so far, I really think that Mulan’s the one you least have to worry about when put in a room with Emerald. She’s a champion fencer and has a judo black belt.”

“Yeah, sounds like she’ll be fine.”

They didn’t really talk much for the remainder of the circuit, arriving back at the hotel just as the early-risers were beginning to emerge for breakfast.

“Well, see you later, Massachusetts,” Tiana said as they slipped back inside before the security guards could grill them about where they’d been. “I’m looking forward to your talent.”

“Yeah, same.” Emma was categorically not looking forward to her own talent. She didn’t even know if she had a talent yet, and although it was something of a gaping hole in her repertoire, she was more concerned with Emerald and Elsa and their altogether suspect behaviours.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied eating disorder.

**Seven**

The large area that had been set aside as a dressing room for fifty ladies and myriad other coaches, make-up artists, production runners and people whose role Emma couldn’t define but seemed to be important was in a state of controlled chaos, with ladies in various states of dress and undress running around borrowing hair straighteners, curlers, mascara, gel… Everyone seemed to know what they were doing in the midst of the pandemonium though, and Emma, clutching a dressing gown around herself over a plain white slip, was the only one feeling as confused as the room looked. She glanced around, craning her neck to try and see Gold. She knew that Belle’s talent was rock solid and she wouldn’t need any assistance from him except perhaps to do her make-up, so hopefully he would have time for Emma. Sadly, he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he hadn’t been able to put anything together at the last minute so he was hiding from her inevitable rage.

“Massachusetts!” Rory called, waving to her. “Your space is here!”

Well, at least she had somewhere to sit down and gather her thoughts whilst the metaphorical tumbleweed floated by.

“Boys,” she muttered to her mic, “you’d better have pulled something out of the bag, because otherwise this operation could be over within the next two hours.”

 _“Relax_ ,” Neal’s voice said in her ear. _“Dad’s pulled a few strings. I’m beginning to think he does some kind of Jedi mind tricks to get people to do what he wants.”_

“That’s great, Neal, but where is he?” She sat down in the chair set aside for her and emptied out the large make-up bag Gold had given her onto the counter, scrabbling around in the pile for the items she needed. She knew that foundation came first. Or was it concealer? Or primer? Or did primer only go on your eyes? Or was it _not_ supposed to go on your eyes? Everyone was too busy doing their own prep to pay her any mind so she continued to talk to Neal unobtrusively. “If he doesn’t show up in the next five seconds…”

_“He’s on his way, he’s having an argument with the security guys. He’s sent your costume ahead, someone should be arriving with it…”_

“Miss Nolan?”

A runner with a headset on came up behind her with a garment bag.

“This was sent from your coach, he’s held up at the front desk but says to get changed and take your things to room 103.”

 _“… any time now,”_ Neal finished.

Emma breathed a sigh of relief and took the bag, peering inside. “Really?” she remarked on seeing the dress within.

 _“Annie Oakley,”_ Billy said in her earpiece. _“Ok, looks like Gold’s on the move again. He’s gonna go sort out Belle first then he’ll come to you in the room, we’re at least trying to make it look like he’s still only working with her to avoid any questions being asked.”_

“I don’t know, I think me running off to private rendezvous with my coach is pretty suspect in itself.” Emma paused as something caught her eye in the mirror and she twisted to look over her shoulder.

_“Tiana’s cover checks out, CCTV shows her leaving the resort grounds with a guy matching Naveen’s description around midnight and coming back with him at the time you said. He seems legit too, some gambling problems a few years ago but he’s got help for them, nothing since.”_

“Good, good,” Emma said, distracted by the scene playing out behind her. “Guys,” she began, keeping her voice low to indicate that this was serious now, not the light-hearted banter they’d been sharing in her nervousness. “I’m about to give you visual on Alaska’s coach, can you check up on her please? I think I’ve worked out why Elsa’s acting so strange, and it might provide us with a clue we need.”

_“Copy.”_

Emma turned away from the mirror and took off her dressing gown, hanging it on the partition between her and Rory’s mirrors so that her camera could get a good view of Elsa and her coach, and Emma could put her dress on without FBI scrutiny. She continued to glance over at Elsa and the older woman who was with her. Poor Elsa looked even more miserable than before, and the older woman appeared to be reprimanding her for something, but she was too far away and there was too much other background noise for Emma to make out what was being said. Just then, the coach passed Elsa a pill bottle and she took two.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” she muttered to herself.

 _“Ok, we got good visual, we’ll see what we can find,”_ Neal said. _“With any luck it’s just aspirin and she’s got a migraine.”_

Somehow Emma doubted that, but she didn’t say anything, pinning her camera to the lapel of her red cowgirl dress and tying her hair into pigtails. Gold had arrived in the dressing room and gave her a brief nod of recognition and approval before disappearing off to the other side to find Belle. Emma swept all the make-up back into the bag and stood up.

“You ok, Emma?” Rory asked, peering around the partition with her eyeliner pencil.

“Yeah, I just can’t concentrate in here, gonna find somewhere quieter or I’ll end up poking my eye out.”

“All right, just yell if you need a hand or anything. You’re looking kinda tired, late night?”

“Oh, I think we know why Emma’s being kept up.” Emerald came over, sashaying in an evening gown despite it being nine in the morning, and she leaned in over Emma’s shoulder to apply lipgloss in her mirror. Emma leaned away as far as she could.

“Don’t you have your own dressing area?” she asked pointedly.

Emerald gave a shrug of infuriating nonchalance and continued to primp. “Well, it looked like all the gossip was happening over here, so naturally I had to come and find out what was going on.”

“Yeah, naturally,” Rory said flatly. “But it seems like you’re the source of all the gossip yourself. What’s all this about Emma being kept up?”

“Well, I did just so happen to see a strange, and, dare I say it, rather handsome young man skulking about your room last night,” Emerald said.

Rory raised an eyebrow. “You brought a guy into your room?” she asked Emma. “You know that’s not allowed.”

“Ah well, I’m sure we all bend the rules a little bit sometimes,” Emerald said, the glee in her voice at possibly having got Emma into trouble completely unhidden. “He was a dish. What did your roommate think? Do you share him?”

Emma turned sharply to Emerald, deliberately catching the redhead’s knee with her chair.

“So it was you who was curtain twitching last night?” she said lightly. “I saw that. I wondered who it was poking their nose into other people’s business. Did you happen to see anything else interesting or was I your only source of entertainment?”

Emerald scowled at her, surreptitiously rubbing her knee.

“I’m only concerned for your safety, Emma,” she said, simpering. “Of course I’m going to take a look if I hear strange men creeping about outside our bedrooms in the middle of the night.”

“Well, he’s not strange. He’s just an old colleague who lives in the area. When I told him this was where I’d be he came over to say hi. There’s nothing untoward going on. Ask my roommate if you want; she was awake too.”

“I might just do that.” Emerald stalked away, stumbling a little on her heels, and Emma turned back to the mirror with a groan, massaging her temples.

“I am not paid enough to deal with these people,” she muttered.

_“No, but you’re doing great, honestly Emma. We’re all rooting for you here.”_

“So, is that really what happened or was that just to put Emerald off the scent?” Rory was peering around the partition with a little grin on her face.

“Jeez, not you as well, it’s bad enough with one of her checking up on us all the time.”

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m not going to shop you to Cora. I was just wondering because my boyfriend’s in town tomorrow night and if I can sneak him in here, well, you know.” She gave an embarrassed cough. “For luck.”

Emma laughed. “Sorry Rory, he really was a colleague and he didn’t come in the room. I just chatted to him on the patio for a few minutes.” Well, technically that was true. That she had then left the patio and followed the colleague away for a few hours was completely beside the point. “Belle can attest to that, wherever she is.”

She looked around but Belle was nowhere to be seen; maybe she’d got lost because she was in flat shoes today and unnoticeable beside all the taller ladies in heels. Still, it wasn’t important now. Gold was going to do her make-up in the suite that the FBI were holed up in and she had to get there without incident.

Emma left the dressing room, noticing that Elsa had also vanished.

X

Due to the nature of rhythmic gymnastics costumes, Belle had elected to get changed in a bathroom stall rather than the main dressing room. She’d just wriggled into her leotard and smoothed out the skirt, zipping up as much as she could, when she heard someone run in on pattering bare feet, slam into the stall next to her and violently lose their breakfast. Belle froze, unwilling to move for a moment, until the sound of retching stopped to be replaced with loud, racking sobs. She tiptoed out of her cubicle and tapped on the next door; it was closed but not locked.

“You ok in there, sweetie? Do you want me to get you some water?”

There was no reply, just wailing. Belle winced.

“I’m worried now, so I’m going to come in unless you say something.”

There was still no response and Belle pushed the door open. Elsa was slumped on the floor in her underwear, face buried in her arms.

“Oh no…” Belle grabbed her dressing gown and draped it around the shivering younger girl, rubbing her back. “Hang in there, I’ll get some water.” She poked her head around the ladies’ room door and waved to a production runner. “Excuse me, could you get some still bottled water please? One of our girls is sick, I think it’s nerves.”

The runner sped away and Belle returned to Elsa, whose crying had turned into snotty hiccups.

“Ingrid’s going to kill me,” she mumbled, dry-heaving again. Belle raised an eyebrow. She, like everyone else, had had a small niggle of doubt about Elsa, but being so quiet, she’d blended into the background compared to the larger than life Emerald, about whom everyone had a still larger doubt. Still, she didn’t say anything, just crouching on the floor beside Elsa and smoothing her sweaty hair out of her face.

The water arrived, along with Tiana, who explained that the news had travelled along the grapevine and as Elsa’s roommate, she felt obliged to come and check up on her.

“I’ll be ok,” Elsa hiccupped. “It’s just…” She tailed off. “I’ll be ok, I just need a minute.”

“It’s all right, we all get nervous,” Belle said encouragingly. “Just breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

“What’s going on here? I heard that Elsa was ill…”

Elsa’s coach arrived in the ladies’ room, immediately coming over to her stricken charge.

“Oh Elsa, you stupid girl. You’ve completely ruined your make-up, we’ll have to do it all over again.”

“I’m so sorry, Ingrid,” Elsa sniffed.

Tiana and Belle exchanged a look, and Ingrid turned to them.

“Well?” she snapped. “I’m sure you have your own preparations to attend to.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Tiana muttered, and they left the bathroom together. “Sheesh,” she continued once they were out of earshot on their way back to the dressing room. “And I thought your guy was bad. He’s a pussycat compared to her.”

“Yeah…” Belle wondered if she should report the incident to Emma, or whether it was just a case of nerves and an overly strict coach. Somehow, knowing that Emma was there for whatever reason had made her paranoid about every slightest little thing that seemed to be out of the ordinary, and she shook herself crossly, trying to remind herself that Emma’s business really wasn’t any of her business and she should keep out of it. Reports of bathroom confrontations probably wouldn’t help her, and there was a pageant to focus on. Whatever reason Emma was here for, Belle was here to compete and hopefully to win.

“There you are,” Caine said, coming over to her as she arrived back in the main dressing room. He zipped up her costume the rest of the way and fastened the hooks at the neck before giving her another spritz of hairspray – Belle was beginning to think her hair would be glued in this style for the next three months – and checking her make-up.

“Teeth,” he said. Belle bared her teeth and Caine wiped away a smudge of lipstick. “There.” He smiled, touching her cheek fondly. “Perfect as always, my Little Miss Maine.”

Belle smiled back, although she could tell that it didn’t seem genuine, and Caine’s brow furrowed.

“Something wrong?”

“Not with me,” Belle said. “I’m fine; I’m excited.” She paused. “Caine, do you know the Alaska coach?”

He shook his head. “No, she’s new this year, not one of the regular crowd. I think she’s come with Elsa, rather than with the pageant. Why do you ask?”

“No real reason. She just seems like a very nasty piece of work.”

“Hmm. I think her type always are, you can see it in their style and posture. Former professional beauty queen.”

“Hmm.” Belle moved away to gather her ribbons and start stretching and limbering up ready to rehearse and for the main event. Caine bid her good luck and left her to go to see to Emma. There was nothing more he could do for Belle; it was up to her to deliver a sterling performance. A picture was beginning to form in her mind of Elsa and Ingrid, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

X

Emma wasn’t sure how he’d managed to do it, but Gold had sourced her an airsoft gun that looked just like a vintage rifle, wooden stock and everything. It was weighted differently to the guns she was used to, but it had a modern sight on it and it fired in the same way.

“Annie, get your gun,” he remarked as he saw her aiming it. She was hidden away around the back of the backstage area at the Alamo where the talent preliminaries were taking place, practising. Only having thirty minutes with a new gun before she was expected to use it was daunting enough, but at the same time Emma kept thinking that all the time spent out here in her makeshift shooting range was time she was not spending scouting out the territory for any possible threats. Although she and the rest of the team were convinced from the letter that the bomb would be planted at the live telecast at the convention centre when the winner was crowned, an outdoor event in a big public arena like this one would be gold dust for a potential terrorist if they wanted to cause a huge stir. Lance, Billy and Neal were all set up in various positions around the stage, watching out for anything and giving her regular reports.

Emma rested the rifle stock on the ground and refilled the gun with paint pellets. “How’s it going out there?” she asked.

“Very well,” Gold said. “Miss Kansas’s warbling has killed several local wildfowl and Miss Alaska has almost fainted, but Belle’s performance was a triumph, and I am politely surprised by the quality of Miss Washington’s tuba playing.”

Emma gave a snort of laughter; learning that Rory played the tuba as her talent had been something of an eye-opener.

“Is Elsa ok?” she asked. “Belle said she was sick earlier. I don’t like her coach.”

“She’s fine now,” Gold said. “Belle said the same thing regarding Ingrid.”

 _“We’re still waiting for news on her_ ” Neal said in her ear. _“Nothing to report out here.”_

The other two agreed that there was currently nothing to worry about, and Gold indicated for Emma to follow him back around to the backstage area.

“Miss Louisiana is about to perform,” he said. “You’re next.”

Emma moved through the marquee to the wings of the stage, giving Elsa an encouraging wave as she passed. Emerald gave her the side-eye; she appeared to have made an enemy there, but at least it would stop the inane chatter. There again, it would also make it harder to keep tabs on her, and Emerald was definitely one that Emma wanted to keep tabs on. Resting her rifle against one of the speakers, she stepped aside as Rory manhandled her huge instrument off the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, a big round of applause of Aurora Briar, Miss Washington!” Cora was saying. “A delightful musical performance. And now, we have the artistic flair of Tiana Grenouille, Miss Louisiana!”

Emma gave Tiana a thumbs up as she pushed a covered trolley onto the stage, and Tiana winked back at her, pulling the sheet off the trolley to reveal what appeared to be an entire greengrocer’s.

Tiana’s talent, it turned out, was creating fruit and vegetable sculptures, deftly carving melons and cutting up peppers, sticking them all together with skewers and toothpicks until a random selection of dessert fruits came together to form a remarkably detailed frog. The crowd went wild and Tiana curtseyed, pushing her fruit off stage.

“Ok, I can see why that beggared explanation,” Emma remarked.

“Yeah, I thought you’d like it,” Tiana said. “Apple? I think there’s enough here to keep the girls refreshed for a while.”

“Talented and practical,” Emma said, tossing an apple to Belle to keep for her and making her way onto the stage as Cora announced her. She could do this. She did this pretty much every day. She was good at this.

One of the runners wheeled a target onto the right hand side of the stage and shooed everyone away; there was a clear plexiglass screen to protect the spectators from any wayward paint pellets. It was a standard shooting range target; Gold had vetoed a human shape as being too violent, however amusing it might have been to use a cardboard cut-out of the president. Emma moved to stage left, as far away from the target as possible, slipped her safety goggles on and shouldered the rifle, itching for the feel of something real and substantial with live ammo in. She knew what she was doing with that, but shooting was like riding a bike really. Although the weapon might be different, the mechanics were all the same.

She fired, a splotch of yellow paint appearing on the bull’s eye, and the crowd applauded. Another shot, another dead centre. She glanced across at the crowd, movement catching her eye, and she lowered the gun before turning to face them so her camera could pick up on the audience.

“White Stetson on my two o’clock,” she muttered to the boys.

 _“It’s Texas, Emma, there are a lot of Stetsons here,”_ Neal said. _“Can we narrow it down a bit?”_

“My two o’clock, heading towards the stage.” She was taking her time putting the new pellets in, trying to give Neal the time he needed to weave through the crowd.

_“Still not helping, Em. Billy? Lance?”_

_“Sorry, I got nothing boss,”_ Billy said. _“Too many damn hats.”_

“He’s packing, boys, right hip.”

Emma couldn’t prolong the reloading any longer and shouldered the gun again, aiming at the target and firing four rounds in quick succession, creating a pattern of pink around the yellow in the centre, painting a crude flower with her shots.

“Boys, he’s still coming, if you don’t get him I’m going to take him out myself.”

_“No, Em, you stay where you are.”_

She fired again and twisted to see her mark’s progression through the crowd.

“I’m not staying where I am if it’s going to get me or one of these other ladies killed!” she hissed.

_“Em, please, just give me a second!”_

The man was almost at the front of the crowd and was reaching inside his jacket. Emma made a snap decision and ran towards the front of the stage, steadying herself on one knee and aiming into the crowd, who reacted with horror, awe, and laughter in equal measure.

“Don’t move!” she yelled to the man in the Stetson. “Hands where I can see them!”

The man looked at her as if she’d gone mad and didn’t move, his hand still inside his jacket.

Emma fired, a splotch of pink paint appearing on the crotch of his jeans and making him double over with the impact of the pellet. In his hand, he held a cigarette lighter. Emma groaned and moved away, handing her gun to the perplexed runner who had ventured tentatively onto the stage and slipping off as quietly as she could.

“Could have been worse,” Belle said as she entered the backstage area, patting her arm and holding out her apple. “You could have actually shot him in the dick. At least it’s only his pride that’s wounded.”

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Emma moaned, taking the apple and slumping down on the ground, curling up behind one of the chairs away from the stares of the other competitors, who were all looking over at her and giggling.

“You were following your instinct,” Belle said, leaning on one of the marquee supports beside her, casually chewing on her own fruit. “Like I said, it could be worse.”

On stage, Cora was announcing “the vocal talents of Ariel de la Mer, Miss Florida”, and as soon as Ariel began singing, the pageant organiser whirled away from the stage and down into the backstage marquee like a power-suited tornado.

“Emma Nolan!” she snapped, as loudly as she could without shouting and being heard over Ariel’s voice (Emma would admit, the Floridian redhead had an amazing set of pipes).

“You know, I think it just got worse,” she muttered to Belle before peering out around her friend’s legs, giving Cora an awkward wave. The older woman stormed over with a face like thunder.

“I will see you in my office at the hotel as soon as we get back this evening!” she said. “Have you any idea what you’ve just done?”

“Oh, believe me Ms Mills, I know what I’ve done,” Emma said, “and however angry you are at me, I’m angrier at myself.”

There was a cold stalemate between the two women, a stand-off despite the vast difference in their current heights, with Emma on the floor and Cora standing. The marquee had already fallen into silence when Cora had made her furious entrance, but now the tension in the air was screaming as all eyes turned to the two women, waiting for one of them to concede defeat and break the glaring contest.

It was Belle who saved them with a polite cough, indicating the stage where Ariel had finished her song and was taking a bow to vociferous applause.

“This is nowhere near over,” Cora hissed before racing away and back onto the stage to announce the next contestant, Nani’s traditional Hawaiian hula dancing.

“Nope,” Emma mumbled. “I get the feeling that it’s not.”

 _“It’s ok, Em, I’ll be with you,”_ Neal said in her earpiece. _“I’m not going to let you take all the flack for this.”_

“It’s my fault, Neal,” Emma said. “I moved when I was told to stay, just like with Lenov last week. If I hadn’t done that, we wouldn’t be in this position.”

_“Yeah, and if I had been quicker off the mark and if Lance and Billy had had better visuals you wouldn’t have felt you had to move. We can talk through what went wrong later, don’t worry about it now. I’ll come with you to Cora.”_

“I don’t need protection from her, Neal, I can handle myself.”

_“I know you can, but that doesn’t mean that you always have to go it alone. This is my op, so I’m taking at least partial responsibility, and you’re going to have to live with that.”_

Emma sighed. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“Well, I have to say that’s not something you see every day.”

Emma looked up to find Gold leaning on the table that they were ensconced behind. To Emma’s intense surprise, he was grinning broadly.

“What are you smiling about?” she muttered, staring at the ground to avoid his face.

“Well, I think you’re certainly going to be one of the most talked about contestants,” Gold said. “And for the part of your act that you were actually performing as you should, you did exceedingly well. Everyone was very impressed. I think half the audience thought that your coda was part of the act itself.” He paused. “If you need an official line on the subject, I would use that. You intended a dramatic ending to your act and didn’t realise there was still a pellet in the gun.”

“Not exactly a stellar endorsement for firearm safety.”

“No,” Gold admitted, “but better than admitting that you did what you did because by the way you’re a highly trained FBI agent,” he added under his breath. “I’m not even going to ask what possessed you to hit that poor man’s crown jewels, but I think I know you well enough to know it wasn’t for fun.”

“Of all the people to be congratulating me for screwing up so spectacularly, I have to say that you’re the last one I expected,” Emma said.

“It’s not congratulatory as such,” Gold mused. “You have probably completely flunked up your score, but that’s not particularly important given the grander scheme of things, is it? It’s more… admiration. I don’t know of many people, be they ladies or men or pageant contestants or not, who’d have the coolness of mind and the mental skill to do that.”

Emma snorted. “Thanks Gold. I’m going to take that as a compliment. I think.” She looked up at Belle, shining her apple on the sleeve of her dress. “I’m sorry I missed your act.”

Belle shrugged. “It’s ok, you needed to practice. I think only the person who goes first actually sees every act, everyone else is too focussed on preparing for their own. Besides.” She gave an excited smile. “Hopefully you’ll get to see it again on Saturday.”

The top ten contestants would all have to perform their talent acts again during the live finale, before the themewear parade and the announcement of the final five. That meant that Emma, fixed as she was, was going to have to do her Annie Oakley act again. Well, if they let her, after this afternoon’s fiasco. And if Cora hadn’t killed her for ruining her pageant like she’d already predicted would happen.

“Good luck with Cora,” Gold said mildly, and Emma glowered at him.

“That’s not funny, Gold,” she growled. “You try dealing with her when she’s pissed.”

Gold laughed, the somewhat cold laugh that showed off the yellow metal in his mouth. “Oh, I have, my dear,” he said. “In both senses of the word. Just imagine her three sheets to the wind and singing ‘On The Good Ship Venus’ and that should get you through whatever she throws at you.”

Belle burst into a peal of giggles and Emma raised an eyebrow; not at the image of Cora swaying about but at Belle knowing the incredibly lewd shanty. In her ear, the boys were laughing so loud she could barely hear herself think.

 _“All right, all right,”_ Neal said eventually, obviously trying very hard not to start laughing again. _“Just because we’ve had one false alarm doesn’t mean that we might not have a genuine emergency on our hands later. Em, can you get back out to be on the lookout, please, we need eyes on the ground at the front.”_

“Yeah, on my way.” Emma heaved herself to her feet and stretched out her back. “See you at dinner, Belle. If I’m still alive by then.” She paused. “And if you’re on a table with Elsa, make sure she eats something, yeah? Tiana and I are kind of worried about her.”

Belle nodded. “Sure. I’m not sure she’s all right myself if I’m honest. She was in a real state this morning.”

Both women glanced over to the opposite corner of the marquee, where Elsa was sitting, despondently stirring a glass of ice water with a straw. Emma tried to put it to the back of her mind, and she moved away to go out to the seating area reserved for the contestants, standing off to one side to get the best visual and focussing on the real reason that she was here. For all that she was worried about Elsa, her primary concern was the safety of all the pageant ladies from a far bigger threat. Certainly, until they could eliminate Ingrid she would be on her guard, but ultimately, Elsa’s problems were none of her concern.

That was the issue, though. Now that she was here and she had started to get to know some of these women, she was getting emotionally involved in their lives. She was, God forbid, making friends. She gave a huff of laughter at the irony. Only a week ago she had been convinced of the calibre of all pageant contestants and derided them accordingly, and now she was worrying about their health and wellbeing, and becoming genuinely interested in their hopes and dreams and passions.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

_“In other news, there was an incident at the Alamo this afternoon during the first preliminary competition of the Miss Fairytale USA pageant, when the contestant from Massachusetts fired the paintball gun she had been using in her act into the crowd. No-one was injured in the incident, and Miss Massachusetts was unavailable for comment.”_

The TV screen winked out to blackness and Cora put the remote on her desk, steepling her fingers together and surveying Emma over the top of them. Emma felt like she was about nine years old, hauled up in front of the headmistress at elementary school for fighting in the playground, and she remembered the feeling of bitter unfairness that she was getting punished when it had been Joey Edwards who’d started it all by yanking on Abby Green’s braid and then calling Emma a dustbin baby when she’d tried to break it up. The only natural outcome of all of that was, of course, Joey Edwards getting a bloody nose.

There was no Joey Edwards to blame it on this time, though, just some poor sod who’d been trying to light a cigarette and now had a bruised member for his trouble.

“Miss Swan – Miss Nolan – would you care to explain yourself?” Cora asked icily.

“He had a gun,” Emma said through gritted teeth.

“This is Texas. Everyone has a gun.”

“Who brings a gun to a beauty pageant?!” Emma exclaimed.

“Coming from the woman who used one in her talent act to great effect, as we have just seen, I do not consider that funny, Miss Nolan,” Cora replied. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I was going to get shot if I didn’t do something,” Emma said. “I am a highly trained agent and one of the things I am trained for is spotting threats and reacting to them on a dime. That is what I did. I’m sorry for the results it has caused, but I am not sorry for acting.” She glared at Killian, who was mooching about behind Cora’s chair, leaning casually on the window frame and staring at Emma’s décolletage with a leer that she was getting worryingly inured to. 

“In any operation there are always going to be false alarms and red herrings,” Neal said smoothly, trying to placate Cora like he had done before, but Emma could tell that the other woman was on the warpath and was not going to budge this time. “We have to pre-empt as much as we can. Would you rather that we had played it safe and one of your contestants had been killed by a gunman?”

Cora narrowed her eyes, gimlet gaze boring into Emma. “Right now, that’s looking exceedingly favourable,” she said. “You will, of course, be providing a cover story to the press? I cannot be expected to take any liability for what has happened here today.”

“Of course not, we’ve got the bureau on it as we speak.”

“Good.” Cora took a deep, steadying breath, and plastered a smile on her face. “Well, since that’s out of the way and I have your full assurance that nothing of the ilk will be occurring again, I think we can draw a line under the event and move on. Gentlemen, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to have a little word with Emma alone. Just… girl talk, you know.”

She got up from her desk and Neal tapped his earpiece surreptitiously, indicating that he was still listening in. As Cora shooed them from the room, Killian was muttering something about girl-on-girl action and Neal wrinkled his nose.

“Jones, you are absolutely disgusting. How did you even get to be here?”

Cora closed the door behind them and the rest of the conversation was lost. She came back over to Emma, slowly walking in a circle around her chair.

“Ms Mills, I am truly sorry for any distress I might have caused, but…”

“Be quiet, Miss Swan, and speak when you’re spoken to,” Cora snapped. “Miss Swan, I have been running this pageant for the last twenty years, and as you know, this show is to be my last. During all the time in which I have worked with the Miss Fairytale USA programme, I have never once had a display as shocking as the one you provided today.”

Emma yelped as Cora grabbed her chin and forced her to look at her. “This is my last pageant, and I am going to make sure that it happens in the way I want it to. It is going to be perfect in every way, my crowning achievement. So if you do anything that might jeopardise that, I am going to kill you. Do you understand me?”

Emma nodded.

“Perfectly,” she squeaked.

Cora smiled and let go of her face; Emma massaged her jaw.

“Excellent. Now, I think that you and your colleagues have some damage limitation to perform. Good luck with the interview tomorrow. Try not to injure any audience members with low-flying microphones.”

Emma left the room without another word, getting away as quickly as she could. Neal was waiting outside and jogged to catch up to her.

“Em. Em!”

“Did you hear that?” she asked as they moved down the corridors towards the FBI hotel room.

“Yes, I got every word.”

“She threatened me!”

“I know, Em, I heard and we’ve got it on recording. I’ve got Billy and Lance trying to dig up everything they can find on her, but I can’t think of a reason why she’d want to sabotage her own pageant on the eve of her retirement, in what should be her most successful and glorious year.”

Emma stopped and turned to her partner.

“I don’t trust her, Neal. I just don’t. There’s something else going on here.” She sighed. “I’m trying to follow so many threads. I’m worried about Elsa, I don’t trust Cora, and I definitely don’t trust Emerald.”

“The really annoying chatterbox from Kansas?”

“Yeah, her. I don’t trust her at all. Something’s wrong about her too. She seems…” Emma sighed, trying to articulate her instinctual feelings into words. “If I didn’t know better I’d say that she was a plant like me. On the face of it she looks like she’s meant to be here, but then every so often she slips up, like I do.”

“She certainly can’t sing, that’s for sure, so if that’s her talent I dread to see the rest,” Neal said. “Ok, I’ll do some digging for you.”

“You don’t think I’m getting paranoid?” Emma asked.

Neal shook his head. “No. You’re just doing your job, and doing it well. Go with your instincts.”

Emma glanced back down the corridor towards Cora’s office.

“Are you really sure that’s sound advice? I mean, going with my instincts is what caused today’s blow-out in the first place.”

“I know, but I trust your instincts. You should trust them too. Honestly Em.” Neal gave a tired smile and Emma realised that he was getting just as little sleep as she was. “I would have done exactly the same thing if I’d been in your position. Might not have aimed for the crotch though.” He winced. “Been on the receiving end of that before and wouldn’t wish it on anyone with a penis.”

Emma clapped both hands over her mouth to prevent a howl of laughter from escaping and doubled over. Neal raised an eyebrow.

“I’m glad that injuries to my manhood amuse you.”

“Sorry, sorry, I just can’t believe you’ve been paintballed in the dick!”

She couldn’t help a snort of laughter, and Neal gave one too.

“Yeah, I thought that might cheer you up. Go on and get de-Annied, I’m going to report back to the guys and see what they’ve managed to find out.”

“Any chance of me getting any sleep tonight?” Emma asked.

“Don’t know, depends if Dad wants you for any last minute stuff before tomorrow.”

“Ugh, he probably will.” Emma let out a long breath, studying the caps of her cowboy boots. “We haven’t really done that much prep for the interview. Not sure how much prep you need for an interview, you can’t really go wrong with answering questions, and if all else fails I can just say that all I want is world peace, and that should go down pretty well.”

“Good to know you’re still a cynic at heart, Em. Chin up. I have to check in with Spencer tonight, he wants a status report.”

“Let’s hope he hasn’t seen the news then,” Emma said dryly. “It’s probably best if you don’t come to the room tonight; Emerald is likely going to be keeping tabs on me with binoculars. I’ll try to remember to put my earpiece back in, and I’ll switch the emergency cell on.”

“Gotcha. We’ll keep in touch. You’re doing great, Massachusetts. Just hang in there and keep following your instincts.”

“Well, you seem to have a lot more faith in them than I do,” Emma muttered as Neal left her in the corridor and she began to trudge back to her room.

All the same, it was nice to have someone who still believed in her so whole-heartedly after everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks.

X

“Gold, do you ever sleep?”

It was the middle of the night again and Emma was sitting on a high stool in the middle of the stage. The staircase behind her had made slightly more progress since the previous evening, but it still didn’t look in any way stable. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open and Gold had completely given up trying to correct her sitting posture.

“Rarely. Come on, we’ve got a lot to get through.”

“Gold!” Emma pleaded. “Please! I need my bed! It’s no good us doing all this if I’m just going to say a bunch of gibberish in my actual interview tomorrow because I’m too damn tired to make sense!”

“You will be absolutely fine, my dear. Adrenaline will keep you going if nothing else. Standing out there with the spotlight on you and having questions fired in your ear, it’s a bit like interrogation. You’ll be bright as a new pin, and you can collapse afterwards.”

“Can I strangle you with a pair of tights afterwards, because that’s looking like a really inviting thing to do right now?”

“If you so wish, you are welcome to strangle me with a pair of tights after you are safely into the top ten,” Gold said. He flicked through his question cards. “What are your thoughts on gun control? Ok, probably not the best thing to ask after this afternoon, but we’ll give it a go.”

“Right now, I want to shoot you so badly, my thoughts on gun control are distinctly unfavourable.” Emma yawned and slumped forward on the stool, bringing her knees up and resting her head against them, closing her eyes. She’d slept in more uncomfortable positions before, and maybe when Neal was done with his phone call he could carry her back to bed…

She jolted upright, suddenly awake. Where the hell had that thought come from? She blinked, putting the very satisfying image of Neal tucking her up and kissing her cheek goodnight to the back of her mind.

“Good morning,” Gold said sarcastically. “Are you still with us? Right, we’ll avoid the topic of gun control; let’s move on to another thorny subject.”

“Please, Gold, I am already in the top ten. I know I am going to be there. Nothing is going to change that. Congratulations to me. I really don’t need your help to get me into that magic club.”

“I know you are in the top ten, Miss Swan, but you do still need to look and sound as if you belong there, and you do need my help for that. Now, describe what family means to you.”

Emma froze. She had been dreading the ‘family’ talk ever since she had first been introduced to Gold. It was the one thing she had always dreaded whenever she met someone new, that moment when the topic of family and parents and siblings and a loving childhood home was brought up.

“Miss Swan, I asked you a question.”

“I know damn well you asked me a question!” Emma snapped hysterically. “I just can’t… I don’t…”

She slid off the stool. “Nope. Just nope. Not doing this.”

“Miss Swan, we’re not finished!”

“No, we are done. We are so done.” Emma slammed out of the auditorium and kicked off the stilettos, throwing them back through the swinging doors at Gold, still standing in stunned silence with his question cards.

X

“No sir, there’s really no need to come down, I have the situation completely under control.”

_“You call your field officer assaulting a member of the public under control!”_

Spencer was positively seething; Neal could almost hear the man’s blood pressure rising down the phone.

“That was a mistake made on bad intelligence,” Neal said.

_“Yes, bad seems to be the key word in this operation,”_ Spencer spat. _“I’ll be there tomorrow evening. No more screw-ups, Cassidy.”_

“No sir, of course not sir, I completely understand sir…”

Spencer had hung up, and Neal groaned, shoving his phone back in his jeans and going back over to where Emma and his dad were rehearsing. Or rather, where they had been rehearsing. Emma was nowhere to be seen and Gold was standing like a statue.

“Dad? What’s going on? Where’s Em?”

“She just… left,” Gold said, perplexed. “I think I may have touched a sore spot, but I honestly didn’t intend any offence. All I did was ask the question.”

“What was the question?”

 Gold held out the card to him, still staring at the doors that Emma had evidently left by. Neal scanned the words and his heart plummeted to his boots.

“Oh crap. I know what’s wrong, I’ll go after her. Don’t worry, Dad, it wasn’t anything you did. Well, not this time at least.”

“Erm, good?” his father hedged, but Neal was already jogging away down the corridor.

“Em? Emma? Where are you?”

 

Neal found Emma at the open fire escape door, her blonde waves dancing in the cool breeze, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped around herself against the temperature. She was barefoot, toes turned in towards each other, and she looked so small and young that Neal just wanted to go over and wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be all right. He came up beside her, keeping his distance. Emma wasn't a tactile person at the best of times and he knew how much it was taking out of her to be in such close proximity to people touching her all the time now, and she was even less receptive when she was upset.

"Anything I can get you, Em?" he asked.

Emma gave a bark of harsh laughter. "You can get me out of here," she muttered, and she continued to stare out at the night for a few moments before shaking her head with a sigh and turning to Neal. "I can't do this, Neal. I'm not cut out for this. I'm sorry to let you down, but I just can't do this anymore."

"You're tired," Neal said. "You've had a stressful day and now it's the middle of the night and it's still not over yet. No-one will blame you for being a bit highly strung."

"That's just it." Emma sighed, leaning back against the door frame. "I'm tired, Neal. I'm sick of all this pretence. I've been doing this for all of two days and I already feel like I'm losing sight of who I am. Blinded by mascara. I mean, look at today, I try to act like an FBI agent and I screw it all up again."

"Don't think about it anymore. We made a mistake, it happens. It happens all the time. Mistakes happening aren't anything to do with you being undercover. I know you can do this, Em. That's the entire reason why I picked you for this operation."

"Come on, Neal, we both know that you picked me because I was the only option."

"I would still have picked you even if you weren't," Neal said firmly. "You're smart, you don't take any crap and you're focussed, observant. How much stuff have you picked up on since you've been here, things that we would never have known about if it wasn't for you? You said yourself earlier that you were following so many threads. You see things, Emma, you pick up on all these little things that aren't right, and you go after them like a bloodhound."

"Like a really tired bloodhound who keeps getting things mixed up.  Why would Cora be targeting her own pageant, for crying out loud? It makes no sense! I'm not making sense any more, Neal!" She pressed her hands over her face, muting a scream of frustration. "This has never happened to me before! I might get things wrong but I'm always sure of my decisions when I make them, even if they do turn out to be crap decisions in the end!"

"Please, Em, don't give up now," Neal said. "You're under a lot of pressure and that's what's making you second-guess yourself because you've got so much other stuff going on at the moment, but I promise, things are going to be ok. We'll focus on the background, you just give us the leads and we'll follow them up. We'll get to the bottom of this. There's still time."

Emma peered at him through her fingers. He looked so earnest that it was hard not to believe him, and she sighed, finally bringing her hands down and wrapping her arms around her chest again, rubbing her shoulders. Neal took off his jacket and held it out to her.

"Were you always so chivalrous or has being around so many princesses rubbed off on you?" she asked with a laugh as she took it and slipped it on.

Neal snorted. "Now that's the Emma I know. Go and get some sleep, and you'll feel better in the morning."

Emma gave a cynical laugh. "Not sure your dad will let me. We still need to finish playing twenty questions."

"He'll understand. He might be a bastard but he's not entirely heartless, appearances aside." Neal gave her a grin. "There's nothing on the programme for tomorrow morning, is there? If you really need to practice I'm sure he can squeeze something in then."

"Yeah." Emma looked out into the night again. "I won't freeze up tomorrow. I won't let you down."

"That's what I like to hear. I didn't think that you would. Come on." He gestured back into the corridor and Emma followed him, pattering along on bare feet.  "I think you need a doughnut."

"Neal, it's the middle of the night," Emma said. "Nowhere is going to be selling doughnuts."

"This is America, Em. Somewhere is always selling doughnuts. They might not be amazingly good quality doughnuts, but they are full of fat and sugar and make you feel better however substandard they may be. And you know, sometimes having an FBI badge can have its advantages."

"Freeze!" Emma said, pointing her fingers towards him like a gun. "Give us all your bear claws, it's a matter of national security!"

"Well, when you're on a sugar crash, it _is_ a matter of national security."

They reached the auditorium again and Neal poked his head around the door. Gold was sitting at the table, sucking on the end of his pencil as he scrawled notes over his question cards.

"Dad, we're going now. Emma will be fine tomorrow."

"All right." Gold looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Is there anything I ought to be aware of? Conversation topics to avoid with a bargepole? I've seen her in action with firearms now and I'm somewhat worried for my genitals."

Neal rolled his eyes and entered the auditorium. "Dad..."

"It's ok, I've got this." Emma peered around the door. "I don't have a family. My parents gave me up at birth and I was never adopted. And I really don't like talking about it, so that's all I'm going to say on the subject. On any normal day I could probably wing an answer, but I've had about four hours' sleep in the last forty-eight, and I think I can be forgiven for not thinking on my feet."

Gold gave a nod of understanding. "I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Swan. I wish you a good night, what's left of it."

"Thanks."

They left the convention centre and got into the FBI van that was parked up behind the hedge in its usual position. That it hadn't been towed yet was a miracle, Emma thought as she leaned back in her seat, watching Neal as he started the engine and swung the van around out of the driveway. They spent a few minutes in easy, companionable silence. That was one of the things that she liked about Neal, the fact that they didn't have to talk. The quiet was never awkward with them, and there was no need for any small talk. Neither of them were particularly good at small talk. Not that all of their conversations were incredibly deep and meaningful, in fact, most of the time they ended up talking about food or whatever random trash Neal had been watching on Netflix that week, but they talked about those things because they actually wanted to, not because they needed to fill the space between them with words.

"Ok. You wait here, I'll see what I can find." Neal had pulled up outside a twenty-four hour convenience store.

"Yeah." Emma drew her feet up onto the seat. "I mean, the cashier's probably half-asleep but I think that walking in wearing an evening gown and no shoes and packing a badge and gun would probably raise a few eyebrows."

"Possibly."

Neal got out of the van and Emma rested her head against the window, trying not to think about anything but at the same time trying not to fall asleep. She didn't think she'd ever been so glad to be on an op with Neal. If it had been anyone else that she was working with, she wouldn't have made it this far; she'd have stormed out of that fire escape and never returned, packing her bags and going back to her desk at the bureau without another word. She'd have probably done that before now. Hell, she probably wouldn't even have agreed to come on the operation in the first place. But it was Neal, and she really didn't want to let him down. However much she might say she didn't need him to stick up for her, Neal had always had her back, and she'd always had his. This was his first op and she didn't want to be the one responsible for seeing her partner crash and burn at the first hurdle. She knew that for all she was complaining, this wasn't easy for him either and she found his attitude admirable. It wasn't exactly optimistic, but it was unfailingly positive, believing in her when she was starting not to believe in herself.

"All righty then." Neal jumped back into the van and tossed down a huge handful of candy onto the dash. "Unfortunately I was wrong and they did not have any doughnuts left. So I got all the Apollo bars they had."

Emma laughed and took one of the bars, tearing into the wrapper and biting off a huge chunk; coughing when she got a mouthful of wrapper as well.

"Some princess," she gasped.

Neal shook his head with a laugh and shoved the van into gear, making their way leisurely back to the resort.

"Never change, Emma."

"Yeah." Emma picked foil out of her teeth and took a bite, pondering over his words. "You know before, when I'd had my makeover at your dad's place, you said that I didn't look any different. What did you really mean by that?" It had been playing on her mind ever since, and now that they had this quiet time to themselves, it seemed the right moment to bring it up.

"I said. You still looked like you. I was worried that they'd have made you into someone different. But despite the make-up and everything, and your new-found amazing posture-" Emma looked down at her currently hunched up body and raised an eyebrow "-you're still you. You're still the Emma we all know and love, you're just wearing lipgloss. For all you might be feeling lost, you've not lost your sense of self."

Emma smiled. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

"Well, it's true. But I will say that you do look like you need to sleep," Neal said. "When I said you looked like yourself you don't necessarily always look amazing. Most of the time. But right now you're kinda resembling a panda."

"It's the mascara," Emma muttered. They had parked up again, eating their candy in the dark van.

"Get some sleep. I'll waylay Dad as much as I can tomorrow to get him to let you sleep in. Oh, I forgot to say, we've done the background check on Elsa's coach."

Emma tilted her head on one side. "Go on."

"There's nothing suspicious there, but I don't think you're going after her as a suspect in the case anywhere."

"Yeah... I'm just worried about Elsa. I mean, I thought there was a slim possibility that it might be something to do with our case, but..." She tailed off. "I joined the bureau to help and protect people, and when you see someone whom you can just tell needs help and protection, then you have to do something, you know?"

Neal nodded. "I know what you mean. Just don't lose sight of why we're here in the first place."

"I won't. I'm still keeping my eyes glued to Cora and Emerald. But tell me about the Alaska coach anyway."

"Ingrid Andersen, she's Elsa's aunt: mother's sister. She became the Snow sisters' guardian when their parents died. She's a former beauty queen herself, she was Miss Denmark and reached the final twenty of Miss World; participated in a load of pageants and was coaching for Miss Denmark until she came over here to care for her nieces."

"That explains a hell of a lot." Although Emma was just about getting used to the Miss Fairytale pageant, she knew that Miss World and its national qualifiers were competitions of a very different calibre, with their swimsuit competitions and focus on physical appearance above all else. "Thanks for letting me know. I've got Tiana and Belle keeping an eye on her. Now, to see if I can get back to my room without Emerald noticing and making comments. Damn!" she exclaimed, realising she was still in the evening gown and had left her pyjamas and coat at the venue.

Neal laughed and tossed her a carrier bag with her clothes in. "Sometimes I think you'd lose your head if it wasn't screwed on," he said.

"Ah, but that's one of the things you like about me." She grinned and Neal nodded.

"Yeah, you're right, it is. Go on, get out of here, Massachusetts. Can't have you concussing yourself by falling off your chair asleep tomorrow."

Emma got out of the van and picked her way back into the hotel on bare feet, waving at Neal as she went inside. Yes, she was glad it was Neal that she was with. He could always make her smile, no matter how lost she might be feeling.


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

Belle stared up at the ceiling and blew at a tendril of hair that had escaped her braid with a frustrated huff. She had woken up when she heard Emma moving around the room and slipping out to go and meet Neal, and no doubt Caine, although she had remained still and given no indication that she had been disturbed. The last thing that Emma needed at the moment was guilt that she was waking up her roommate. All the same, Belle was very awake now, and her brain kept going over the events of the day. She knew that she wasn't likely to get back to sleep any time soon, her stomach fluttering with nerves at the thought of the next stage of the competition to come. She was always a little nervous before these events, but if she was being brutally honest with herself then she knew that the butterflies were not solely caused by the pageant.

She sighed, rolling onto her side to look at the window and the moonlight filtering through the light modesty drapes. The final stages of the competition also inevitably meant that her time with Caine was coming to a close, and that really wasn't something that she wanted to think about.

Belle would admit to having been nervous when she had first approached Caine about the possibility of coaching her for the pageant. His somewhat unusual occupation was well-known throughout Storybrooke, and so was his reputation as a hard taskmaster and complete perfectionist. But for all his faults, she knew that he was one of the best there was, and since he was practically on her doorstep, it made no sense to go further afield for the help and reassurance that she desperately needed. It was true that he had expected her to work hard, but he had given her as much as she had given him, and their relationship had relaxed from the stiff, formal interaction of a mentor and an eager student into true friends and perhaps, Belle dared to hope, something more. She had seen the fond look on his face whenever he thought she wasn't looking, and at first she had dismissed it as pride in his handiwork and in her, a more paternal feeling than anything else. But as time had gone on, she had begun to think that there was something else in his dark eyes when she modelled his designs, or leaped and twirled in her gymnastics routine. Could it be that the feelings went deeper? Belle knew that hers did. There was a passion in him, behind his sedate, smartly-cut suits and his calm demeanour. He felt strongly about things and he pushed hard to make them come into fruition, but more than that, he felt strongly about her dreams and wanted her to succeed for her own sake, not just for his reputation.

Belle got out of bed, pulling on yoga pants and a hoodie, and she paced up and down the room a few times, trying to come a decision. She was very awake and that wasn't going to change in a hurry. She knew that as long as Emma was out of the room, it was likely that she was with Caine and that he was awake as well. It wasn't that she was jealous of Emma and the time she had spent with Caine in the run up to the pageant and during it, far from it. She pitied the gruelling schedule that the other woman was having to go through to make sure she was ready for whatever the spotlight could throw at her. It did mean, though, that Belle hadn't had quite as much time with her coach as she had been anticipating. He still gave her his complete and preferential attention when it was needed, but they hadn't been able to have any of their customary chats, which Belle had been quite looking forward to. She needed the routine to keep her grounded, and she knew that just talking to him would help her relax ready for whatever the next day might bring. She had made friends with some of the other ladies well enough, but they still didn't know her, not in the way that Caine did after so long spent together preparing for this final moment.

She wanted to find out where she stood. That was what was making her so jittery. It was a conversation that needed to take place soon, before the end of the competition when they would part without really knowing what was going to come next for them. Even if he wasn't interested in taking things further, she didn't want to lose touch with him completely. Admittedly that wouldn't be hard when they lived in the same town, but she didn't want things to be awkward between them if they went from coach and contestant back to neighbours.

Belle grabbed her keycard and wrote a quick note for Emma explaining her absence in case for any reason their paths did not cross, shoving it into the mirror frame before leaving the room, peering furtively along the corridors to check that no-one was about. Well, more specifically to check that Emerald wasn't about. Emma's suspicions of Miss Kansas were rubbing off on Belle, and the fact that the enthusiastic redhead was turning out to be a thoroughly unpleasant person wasn't helping. There was just something about her that raised Belle's hackles, because she could tell that for all she was playing the bright, bubbly, slightly dim beauty queen, there was something sharp and calculating in her eyes sometimes.

She crept along the corridor towards the hotel lobby, and was somewhat wrong-footed when she saw Caine coming in. He smiled when he saw her hiding behind a large potted palm tree and came over.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, leaning on the wall beside her.

Belle shook her head. "No. I was just thinking about tomorrow. And what comes after." She paused. "Truth be told I was going to come looking for you."

Caine raised an eyebrow. "Really? It's the middle of the night."

"Yes, but you're still up, aren't you?"

"You have a point." Caine glanced back over his shoulder towards the lobby. "Shall we move to slightly more comfortable surroundings?" he asked. "I know that it might seem rather unorthodox for an old man like me to invite a lovely young woman like you back to his hotel room, but I don't want to disturb Emma when she returns, and I don't think that we'll be allowed to sit in the lounge at two o'clock in the morning."

Belle giggled. "It's quite all right, Mr Gold, I know that your intentions are entirely honourable." She moved away from the pot plant and Caine followed her down the corridor; she stopped halfway, turning to let him catch up. His limp looked more pronounced tonight, and she wondered if so much standing around during the preliminaries and walking about whilst training Emma was having a negative effect. It made her sad to think of him in pain, and she slowed her pace to stay beside him as they continued on down towards his room.

They turned the corner and Belle immediately backed up, pushing Caine back behind her and peering around the corner.

Emerald was standing in the corridor outside her room, wrapped in a sheet, talking to Killian of all people.

"Belle, what..." Caine began, but Belle shushed him and continued to watch the two in the corridor. For a brief moment she entertained the notion that they were somehow romantically involved. It would certainly explain their current position. Maybe Mulan had moved out of the room in protest and gone to sleep on her and Emma's floor as they'd predicted the previous night. She tried to grab a strain of their conversation, but they were whispering, and too far down the corridor for her to hear more than the odd word. She sighed; she was probably being as bad as Emerald herself with her peeping, but this was different, this was something far more sinister because she knew that Emerald and Killian were both in Emma's sights for whatever reason, and the two of them colluding probably wasn't a good thing.

The conversation came to a close and Emerald turned to go back into her room, Killian smacking her butt as she did so. She shot him a glare over her shoulder that would have frozen hell over. Not romantically involved then. Killian just smirked, sauntering away down the corridor with a satisfied air. Belle had to give a snort; considering how badly Emerald wanted to rake everyone else's dirty laundry over, she certainly wasn't subtle when it came to her own.

"Ok, what was that about?" Caine asked mildly as Killian disappeared through the double doors at the end of the corridor and they came out from their hiding place.

"They're up to something," Belle muttered. "And I don't think I like the implications of that."

"No, I can see why." Caine sighed. "I don't know where Cora dragged that bottom-feeder up from," he said. "Her previous assistants have always had at least a touch more class than that. Why she decided to get rid of Anastasia is beyond me." He paused and gave a dry laugh. "Actually, it's not that hard to believe."

Belle raised an eyebrow. "Anything you'd like to share?"

"Well, since any gossip about our dear pageant organiser seems to be order of the day, I'd be quite happy to impart my thoughts. They're just my thoughts, though. Oh Cora. Long live your insecurities and the stupid decisions that they convince you to make."

They had reached Caine's room by this point, and he let them in, stepping back to allow Belle to go first.

"Why thank you, kind sir." She laughed at her own statement. "Sorry, it's all this talk of fairytales and princesses," she said. "I think it's gone to my head a bit."

"You're very welcome, and with a vivid imagination like yours, my dear, I can't say that I'm entirely surprised. Do take a seat anywhere that there's room."

Caine's room was smaller than the one Belle shared with Emma, obviously, but still cosy, although incredibly messy. Belle looked around herself in something of a daze, searching for a surface that wasn't covered in material or haberdashery and finally settling herself crosslegged on one of the pillows at the head of the bed. Considering that Caine's studio and office back in Storybrooke had only ever been pristine when she had been in them, this sudden tailor's paradise of chaos was quite a surprise.

"I do apologise for the mess," Caine said sheepishly, moving a pile of oddments off the dressing table chair and sitting down.

"It's all right, it reminds me of my bedroom back home," Belle said. "What is all this?" she asked, looking around at the explosion of white fabric. "Is it for Emma's dress?"

Caine nodded. "I haven't had quite as much time to work on it as I had hoped, and I couldn't let her go through this competition with no themewear dress."

"Do you think you'll get it finished in time?" Belle asked. In all the madness, she couldn't discern anything that vaguely resembled a dress.

"Well, Emma hasn't let me down so far, so I do not intend to let her down on Saturday." He hooked his cane over the edge of the dressing table and reached down to open the bottom drawer of the dresser, taking out a bottle of whisky. Belle tutted in mock disapproval when she saw it.

"Mr Gold! You know that this event is dry!"

Caine just winked at her. "When you've been to as many of these as I have, you know that they are never dry." He poured a finger into the waiting glass and offered it to Belle. "Would you like some? I think we ought to celebrate todays' triumphant performance."

Belle shook her head. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea lest I slur and sing sea shanties throughout tomorrow's performance."

"Tea, perhaps then?" he asked. "I think it's bad form for me to invite you in here and then not give you anywhere to sit and not give you any refreshments either."

Belle smiled. "Tea would be lovely, thank you."

Caine called room service to ask for a pot of tea and two cups, and some cookies. She supposed that was an advantage to the pageant taking place in a big plush hotel like this one. They wouldn't bat an eyelid at people ordering tea for two in the middle of the night.

"So tell me about Cora and her assistants," Belle said, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. These were the moments that she really enjoyed when she was with Caine, when they weren't worrying about the competition and he was telling her stories of pageants past and giving her these little insights into his life.

"Well, my dear, Cora Mills is not the most secure of women."

Belle raised an eyebrow. "Really? She always seems like a powerhouse to me."

"Oh, you know how much a fierce and forceful exterior can hide a very different interior," Caine said. His voice was easy, confident, but there was something in his eyes. Belle knew exactly what he meant. He was one of those people himself, wearing his ferocious reputation like armour against the world. She had seen beneath that veneer, seen through to the man he really was, and it gave her a sense of privilege that she had been let in. Idly she wondered if it had been a conscious decision on his part or if it had happened naturally as their friendship had grown, and she wondered if all his clients got to see this side of him or if there was something different with her because they knew each other outside of this strange scenario; she was local unlike his other contestants from all over the state and beyond.

"I know exactly how much that can happen," she said softly. Unless she was very much mistaken, Caine's ears went a delicate shade of pink and he coughed. Thankfully they were saved by the knock at the door and the announcement that room service had arrived. Belle went over to get it whilst Caine cleared a space on the bed, and they sat down together for their midnight snack. Caine poured the tumbler of whisky into his teacup and raised it in a toast.

"To your continued success," he said. Belle chinked her cup to his.

"Yes. And to your continued success as a coach. I doubt I would have got this far without you."

"Oh, I don't know about that. You have talent and beauty in spades. I just... teased it out of you."

Belle blushed, concentrating very hard on her teacup, hair falling down to hide her face. "Thank you."

"I mean it." One of Caine's hands reached out, tenderly brushing her hair back behind her ear so that he could see her face again, and she finally looked at him. "I have coached a lot of women, but I don't think any have been as natural as you."

"Thank you."

It really wouldn't take much to lean across and kiss him, and Belle worried her bottom lip between her teeth, wondering if she should do just that or if it would ruin everything. She decided against it, still not entirely sure of his feelings; if he was maybe just telling her this to bolster her confidence at this important juncture of the competition. She gave a weak laugh. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Caine shook his head.

"I may be a smooth talker, but I have always told you the truth."

Belle nodded, trying to process everything in her head and figure out her next move, if a next move was even on the cards. Considering she had come out seeking Caine’s company in the middle of the night, searching for answers and a steady footing, it felt like everything was even more up in the air than it had been before.

"You were telling me about Cora," she said, curling her legs up under her and changing the subject quickly before the heavy silence between them became awkward.

Caine chuckled. "Indeed I was. You see, Cora has always had a pressing need for reassurance in her own beauty. Quite contrary to the theme and aim of her pageant, her self-worth relies heavily on others' perceptions of her. I am of the firm belief that her loyal assistant Anastasia, who was with her for quite a few years before now, has been summarily let go because Cora felt that having someone as young and pretty as Anastasia was detrimental to her own image. Far better to go for a young man against whose face her own could not be compared."

"I suppose I can understand that," Belle said. "I don't necessarily condone it, but I understand it. Poor Anastasia, fired from a beauty pageant administration for being too pretty. It beggars belief, really. But of all the people she could have chosen, why Killian? He's not even a good assistant, she's constantly yelling at him for getting things wrong, and he's just so..." Belle shuddered. "I don't think there are words for how sleazy he is."

"I have already vowed to trip him up with my stick before this week is out," Caine agreed. "As for why him, well, I think you've answered your own question."

"Because he's sleazy?" Belle raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"Mr Jones has made his opinions of the fairer sex well known. If the body has got all the necessary parts then he will undoubtedly express an interest in fornicating with it. Regardless of age or aesthetic, Cora does have all the necessary parts, and is no doubt preening off the interest."

"Surely no-one can be that desperate." Then again... Belle thought of Emerald and Killian in the corridor and decided that she would reserve judgment.

"I don't think it's a question of desperation," Caine said. "Just terribly low self-esteem. Since this is her final year before she hands over to Regina, I expect that Cora is feeling it more than most. She was always ambitious and she would stop at nothing for what she wanted, but like I said... The mask of success can hide a lot. She always liked to feel adored."

Caine was staring off into the middle distance, and something inside Belle twisted.

"You coached her, didn't you, back in the day."

Caine nodded.

"Were you two..." She didn't want to pry, but at the same time she really needed to know, so that she knew where she stood. If Gold was harbouring an old flame for Cora then...

"Yes." His voice was clipped and cool. "I can assure you that it was an exceedingly brief liaison and there are no lingering feelings on either side."

It hadn't ended well, then.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stir up ill feeling."

Caine shrugged. "It was a long time ago and I've had to negotiate with her every year since," he said. "There's no bad blood. I just perhaps know her a little better than some others do." He shook his head. "Enough of Cora, she's none of our concern. Tonight we focus on you." He sipped his tea and popped a cookie into his mouth, offering her the plate. "Why did you want to see me? And at two in the morning? Not that it's not lovely to speak with you at any time of day or night."

"I..." Belle let out a long breath. It felt wrong to be discussing their relationship or indeed lack of it having just dragged up a previous one that had not gone quite as smoothly as their own. "I don't know. I just needed the reassurance, I guess. Maybe I'm as bad as Cora."

"Definitely not," Caine said firmly.

"I'm glad about that."

They fell into silence for a moment, both unsure of quite what to say.

"How's Emma doing?" Belle asked, changing tack again. She hadn't really seen her roommate much since the fiasco at the talent preliminary, and she had looked so tired and done in when they had returned to their room after dinner that she hadn't had the heart to ask and had just offered chamomile tea and sympathy.

"I think she's going to be all right," Caine said. "She's already proven herself to be remarkably resilient. What about you? Are you confident about tomorrow? You have every reason to be."

Belle nodded. "I know that I've got what it takes. I'm sure I can make it to the top ten, but it's just the uncertainty that's making me wary, because this is such a big thing." Oh, the irony. The uncertainty about more than one thing was causing her to worry, and both of them were very big things. Belle hadn't dated since college, and she knew that Caine wasn't exactly known for his romantic exploits in the town. Half of Storybrooke was under the erroneous impression that, given his profession and consistently immaculate state of dress, that he wasn't interested in women sexually at all, an opinion that, considering she had known him and his son since childhood, Belle considered baffling.

Although, he wasn't looking quite so immaculate now. Belle bit her lip as he unknotted his tie and pulled it off, rolling his shoulders as he undid the top couple of buttons of his shirt. It was the first time she'd seen him with one small piece of his armour gone, and even though he wasn't showing anything remotely intimate, just a tiny triangle of neck and chest not normally seen, it still made her stomach flip. It was the knowledge that he was comfortable enough around her to relax that little bit more that was more enticing than anything, although Belle now found herself desperately wishing that he would undo the next button down and show her a little more.

"Just go out there and be the best that you can be," Caine said, winding his tie absentmindedly around his fingers and looking around himself at the mess, as if he was seeing it for the first time. "How the hell am I going to get to bed?" he asked.

Belle giggled. "Would you like a hand cleaning up?" she asked.

"No, no, I'll muddle through, I always do." He held out the plate bearing the last cookie. "Take it. For luck."

Belle did as bid, tasting the sugar melting on her tongue and licking her lips. Caine was watching her, and she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously.

"I, erm, I should let you get back to bed, it's a big day tomorrow," he said quickly. "I shouldn't keep you up."

"It's all right," Belle said. She had been the one to seek him out after all. "I think I was the one keeping you up."

Nonetheless, she moved off the bed towards the door; she could tell that something had become awkward between them. Not a bad kind of awkward, far from it. A frustrated awkward, with both of them waiting for the other to make the next move and neither of them quite bold enough to make it.

Do the brave thing, Belle thought. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow. 

Caine had followed her to see her to the door, and she turned to face him.

"Good night, Caine," she said.

"Good night, Belle."

Be brave...

Belle went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, smiling against his mouth at the little squeak of surprise that he gave, and revelling in the way he relaxed into the kiss, parting his lips slightly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. His eyes were bright as she pulled away, and Belle licked her lips, fancying she could taste him on her along with the sugar from the cookies.

"That was... unexpected," he said, his voice slightly gravelly.

"But hopefully not unwelcome?" Belle hedged.

Caine shook his head. "Not at all."

They stayed looking at each other for a long time, but it was clear that Caine was either too nervous or too mind-blown to return the kiss, and Belle gave a small smile, opening the door to let herself out.

"Good night, Caine."

"Good night, Belle."

She glanced over her shoulder as she walked down the corridor; Caine was still standing in the doorway watching her and he bowed his head in embarrassment at being caught looking, then seemed to steel his resolve and glanced up, blowing her a kiss before ducking back into his room. Belle smiled, hugging herself as she scampered back down the corridors towards her own room and entering it quietly. Emma was back in bed but not asleep, and she raised one tired eyebrow as Belle pulled off her pants and hoodie, silky nightdress falling back into place as she padded over to her bed.

“I got your note,” Emma said. “And I take it from where you’ve been that you’ve had an enjoyable little chat with Gold?”

Belle nodded. “Yes. It was...” She didn’t finish; she wanted to keep the kiss to herself, their little secret for a while, so that she could hold on to the memory of it and keep herself smiling all through the next day’s competition. “It was lovely,” she finally concluded, her voice a little bit dreamy.

“Well, what happens behind closed hotel room doors, stays behind closed hotel room doors,” Emma said with a wink, thumping her pillow and turning over.

“Emma! Nothing like _that_ happened!”

“Ah, but something happened. I can tell from the goofy grin that you can’t wipe off your face. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell Neal.”

“Oh cripes, I hadn’t thought about Neal.”

“Don’t worry about him, just focus on you and Gold.” Emma twisted to look at her. “As much as I would love to keep teasing you, let’s park this conversation and come back to it in the morning,” she said.

“Good night Em.”

“Night.”

Belle snuggled down between the covers and closed her eyes, drifting off to the happy memory of Gold’s lips on hers.

X

Gold carefully moved all the pieces of fabric that would eventually come together to make Emma’s dress off the bed and made sure everything was accounted for before flopping face first into the pillows and groaning. What had he been thinking? Sure, Belle had been the one to initiate the kiss, but he definitely shouldn’t have returned it. Or blown her another one. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested. If anything he was rather too interested. He’d never felt this way about one of his ladies before. Even with Cora all those years ago, it had been a relationship based almost entirely on lust and Cora’s need to be worshipped. He’d worshipped her all right, and look where it had gotten them both. He couldn’t afford for that to happen again. He wouldn’t be taken for a ride again.

A frustrated voice in the back of his mind – it sounded remarkably like Neal’s – told him that it would be different this time, that Belle was different and she wasn’t using him like Cora had done. She was natural and genuine, he had told her that himself and he didn’t lie about things like that. Not to her, at least. But deep down inside, he was afraid, afraid to let himself love again after what had happened all the previous times he had been in love. He was beginning to think that he was a romantic bad luck charm.

There wasn’t any harm in seeing where it went, the logical part of his brain told him. Unfortunately the cowardly part of his brain was shouting him down. Belle had worked so hard to get as far as she had in the competition, he knew she had what it took to be part of the top ten and he knew that she was going to be devastated if it didn’t happen. Just how far was she willing to go to get that crown?

For a moment, as his body finally succumbed to tiredness and he drifted between sleep and wakefulness, he thought of all the times he had seen Belle in her underwear when he had measured her for her dresses, all the times his hands had come around her waist or shoulders to help correct her posture, and it all drifted together into one heady, sensual melange, the feeling of Belle’s lips on his and his hands around her waist blending from separate memories into one dream, of an event that had never happened but that he wanted so badly to occur.

Gold startled into full wakefulness and sat up with a groan. This was terrible. How could he have allowed this to happen? He should have kept her at arm’s length like he did with everyone else. What was it about her that had got under his skin so deeply?

He glanced at his watch; it was so late it was early, but he had to get his brain back in gear, and to that end he padded into the bathroom to take a cold shower and hopefully regain some perspective.

Neal’s voice in his head kept making comments, bright red warning signs flashing up in his mind that he was shutting down again, pushing people away like he always did. But this was different. This was for preservation, both of himself and of Belle. He was a difficult man to love, he knew that, and he didn’t want her to get hurt.

_Well, she’s definitely going to get hurt if you’re the one doing the hurting_ , a snide voice in his head said. Gold tried to squash it down. Getting too close had got him into trouble before, and now it appeared that trouble was catching up with him. This was the best, for both their sakes. He would have to find Cora tomorrow and speak to her; he had a plan, one that had been brewing ever since Neal had first called him about Emma, and he was going to put it into fruition. For now, though, all he had to do was focus on getting the two ladies through the next stage of the pageant. And maybe not falling head over heels in love with one of them.

With a heavy sigh as he shut off the water, Gold realised that it was far too late for that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

“OK, Lance, have we got anything else on Killian?”

“No, although not for want of trying. I’ve got Keith back at the office trying to negotiate with the Irish justice system to try and find out his record before he came to the States, but the guy’s on a go slow. I think he’s still pissed off that we kicked him off the team and he didn’t get to come and leer at the dressing room.”

“Tell him to suck it up and buy a copy of Playboy, he’ll see more flesh in there anyway. Billy, hit me with a question.”

Emma was sitting in the hotel room that the FBI were using as a makeshift office, filtering through all the information that they had gathered over the course of the pageant. After her chat with Neal and a few hours uninterrupted sleep, she had woken refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready to conquer the world. Well, ready to get to the bottom of the pageant threat and do her best in the evening’s interview preliminary.

“OK, ‘what do you think can be done to protect young women in society?’ Emma, it’s not that we don’t admire you for doing this, but shouldn’t Gold be the one asking all these questions?”

“The most fundamental way to protect young women in the world today is to start by changing society’s perceptions so that the horrific crimes perpetrated against young women are blamed solely on the attacker and not on the victim; our culture of victim-blaming has made young women afraid of coming forward and reporting dangerous situations, which leaves us unable to protect them. And any idiot can ask me questions off a card, Billy.”

“Gee, thanks,” Billy snorted.

“No offence,” Emma added hastily. “What I mean is, I don’t need Gold right now, I need to try and get to the bottom of this because we’re running out of time. The finale is tomorrow, and we need more of a lead than we have. Besides, Gold and Belle need some time together; they’ve hardly seen each other since we got here and since Belle’s his legitimate contestant, he needs to at least look like he’s coaching her.”

Neal entered the room bearing food and spread it all out on the only part of the desk that was not covered in paperwork or electrical equipment.

“All right, we’ve got Thai takeout, come and get it.” He perched on the bed beside Emma and held out a container of coconut prawns; Emma took one.

“There’s something going on with Killian, I’m sure of it,” she said. “Belle was telling me everything she’d learned from Gold yesterday, about how Cora just fired her previous assistant who’d been with her for years and got Killian instead. There’s something suspicious in that, although whether Cora’s in league remains to be seen. Plus there’s the conversation between Emerald and Killian.”

Emma chewed her prawn thoughtfully and pushed the papers aside. “All three of the ones I’ve got my eye on interlink somehow and I wish I knew why.”

“One big conspiracy?” Billy suggested. “You know that if we’ve got enough evidence to charge one we could probably get them all on the same charge.”

“Yeah, I know, the problem is convincing an attorney that they’re all linked in some way,” Emma said. “We can link Emerald to Killian only by that conversation that Belle and Gold happened to see last night, and we don’t even know what they were saying, it could just have been Killian knocking on doors trying to get some, I don’t know.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t put it past him,” Neal said dryly. “He’d have had trouble if Mulan had answered the door, her girlfriend arrived today and between them they look like they could have his head clean off.”

Emma snorted; she’d finally met the New York contestant at dinner the previous night, and all Tiana’s reports of her were not at all unfounded. She’d almost advised her to apply for a position at the bureau.

“We can link Killian to Cora through the fact he works for her and he’s suspicious in that he’s come into her employ so suddenly, but then we can’t link Emerald to Cora in any way. I think Killian’s the keystone here but I just wish I knew what was going on behind the scenes.” She sighed. “For all I’m undercover to access all areas I think there’s a lot I’m not getting.”

“Maybe you could talk to Emerald, try and get it out of her surreptitiously,” Lance suggested.

“What, like engage her in conversation and casually slip explosives and past criminal records into the discussion?” Neal asked.

“No, not like that. More subtle than that.”

“Lance, I shot a guy in the dick yesterday, I don’t do subtle,” Emma said.

Lance chuckled at the memory. “Don’t worry, we got that sorted out, no questions asked. Although you might get a laugh if you’re asked about gun control tonight. It was only a suggestion.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately if I engage Emerald in conversation I might not be able to get out of the conversation. Ever. That woman can talk. Do you think they’ll have hooks to pull her off the stage after her allotted two minutes tonight?” Emma paused, thinking of the image lovingly. “Now that would be nice.”

"Not sure we'll have that much luck," Neal said.

Presently there was a knock at the door and all the agents looked at one another.

"Anyone order room service?" Billy asked.

"Hair and make-up delivered to your door," Gold's voice said through the wood. "I'm sure you've been having a very productive day in there, but unfortunately it's time to slip into your other persona."

Billy went over and let the coach in, and Emma reluctantly put away both papers and coconut prawns in order to let Gold make her over. The talk came to a stop, the other agents absorbing themselves in either eating or working, as they didn't want to give too much away in front of Gold. It wasn't that they didn't trust him, but the fewer people who knew about the real reason for their being there, the better.

"So, how are things going with Belle?" Emma asked cheekily as Gold brushed her hair out from its messy ponytail and began pinning it in an elaborate style.

"I get the feeling you're talking in the personal sense, not the professional sense," he muttered through a mouthful of bobby pins. "In which case, it's private, thank you very much."

"Dad." Neal leaned back, looking at his father with an amused expression as he dug into his pad thai. "Is there something I should know? Any developments in your love life?"

"You've never been interested in my love life," Gold said, spritzing Emma with a liberal helping of hairspray that made Lance cough and rush over to open the window.

"Well, I am now, because I know Belle, and I know that she's a lovely person whom I don't want to see get hurt."

"Am I getting the shovel talk from my own son?" Gold exclaimed, moving around to work on Emma's face.

"No, no, I'm just saying that you really should at least _try_ not to screw this one up."

"I don't screw things up intentionally." Gold sounded very much like he was sulking. "These things just... happen."

"Well, make sure it doesn't happen this time."

"I am very sure, Neal, that her feelings towards me are of a purely professional nature."

"Yeah, pull the other one. She practically glows whenever she talks about you," Neal said.

"She was so giddy when she came back to the room last night," Emma added before obediently opening her mouth so that Gold could put her lipgloss on.

"Dad! You're a dark horse, entertaining young ladies at two in the morning. I think that there's definitely something that we need to know."

"No, there is not, and now Emma is ready and I am leaving before I'm subjected to any more FBI harassment. I think I'm going to start needing a lawyer every time I come in here."

Gold left the room without another word and Emma got up, stretching the cricks out of her spine.

"You know, you probably shouldn't antagonise him quite so much. He is the one making sure I look legit and don't blow my cover," she pointed out. "I know you don't get on with him but you seemed to be reconciling a bit."

"I know, I'm just teasing him because it's easier than actually talking about this kind of thing," Neal said. "But it's true though, I will kill him if he screws this up, I already said that. All right, now go and get dressed up and give us some eyes in the dressing room. See what Emerald's up to, any more little slips that prove she's not as she seems."

"Oh, I already intend to keep eyes on her like a hawk," Emma said. She left them and went to gather up her evening gown from her own room. Belle was nowhere to be seen, and it was obvious that Emma was one of the last ladies to make their way down to the dressing room.

"Ok boys, heading out now," she muttered.

_"Good, we're receiving you loud and clear,"_ Neal replied. " _Good visual too. Go and find Emerald and see if Cora's up to no good. There's got to be a link somewhere, we'll keep working on it. Billy's on the CCTV all around the venue looking for something suspicious. I'm going to come down there and have eyes on the ground."_

"You sure that's a good idea?" Emma said. "Remember what happened last time."

_"Well, you won't have a gun this time,"_ Neal said. _"Besides, I thought that you might appreciate some moral support in person, rather than just in your ears."_

Emma smiled. "That's very sweet of you. Thank you."

She pattered down the corridor in bare feet, still not trusting herself to go at anything faster than a slow walk in the spindly heels, skirt hitched up around her knees. She almost bumped into Elsa, who was coming out of her own room, still looking pale and drawn. Emma wondered if she'd been ill again, but there wasn't much time to ponder; as Neal had said, she had to focus on the reason why they were there, however much she might want to help Elsa. She gave the younger woman a thumbs up with the hand holding her shoes and received a genuine smile in return; that would have to suffice.

"All right, entering the dressing room. I'm going to look for Emerald although if it looks like I won't be able to escape from her clutches, you're going to give me some kind of back-up. I don't care what kind. SWAT team if necessary."

Lance laughed in her ear.

There was no sign of Emerald in the crowded dressing room, so Emma moved around towards the backstage area, peering around everywhere she could find, just in case today was the day and the letter had given them the false impression that the target would be the finale so that their guard would be down on the other days.

"I can't see anything," she said. "Stage looks safe."

"Miss? Miss, you can't be back here, the show's about to start, you need to get to your entrance position."

One of the production runners had come over to her, shepherding her frantically away to the stage and back towards where all the other contestants were lining up ready for the beginning of the preliminary. There was a short walkthrough parade in which they were all introduced and then it would be straight into the interviews. At least once this first part was over she had the rest of the evening to investigate, apart from the two minutes when she'd be on stage herself. Still no sign of Emerald, she noted, as the runners performed a headcount to make sure all fifty ladies were present.

"We're missing Kansas, Alaska and New Jersey!" someone yelled. Well, at least Emerald wasn't the only one who had gone awol.

Elsa hurried into sight along with the lady from New Jersey, leaving just Emerald absent. Emma began to feel incredibly uneasy about the whole thing and was seriously considering slipping out of her place and going in search.

"It's all right, found her."

Killian was steering Emerald around the corner.

"Those two together again," Emma muttered. "I'm getting a really bad feeling about this, boys."

_"Billy's trying to find out where they've been,"_ Neal said. _"All right, I'm in position. Dad snuck me in to the area where the coaches wait so I'll see you in a couple of minutes. Knock 'em dead. But not literally."_

Emma gave a snort of laughter and then she was off, walking along the stage with her most brilliant smile on, feeling quite possibly the most ridiculous she had ever done. It was all so contrived, but then again, that was the kind of atmosphere that an attacker would want. Something so routine and contrived, with no-one expecting anything different from the norm, and then boom. Fifty would-be princesses all up in smoke.

"And there we have it," the MC said, once they had all walked through. "Fifty lovely ladies from all over the country. So without further ado, let the interviews commence. The interview accounts for thirty per cent of the final score."

The interview segment of the pageant was hosted by a couple of different famous faces each year who then went on to share hosting duties with Cora for the finale. This year the honour fell to Ella Furrier and Ursula Tempest, whose late night talk show had sky-rocketed to success over the last year thanks to Ella's sharp wit and acerbic sense of humour, and Ursula's ability to remain completely calm and composed no matter what curveballs her guests, or indeed her co-host, could throw at her. Of all the people that could have been asking her questions, Emma was really quite glad that it was these two. She enjoyed their show and in any other circumstances she'd be quite excited at meeting them in the flesh, but right now she was feeling far too stressed to be able to focus on any kind of positive feeling. She just wanted to get off that stage as soon as possible and reconvene with Gold and Neal and get to work.

Finally Ella and Ursula finished their spiel, Ella adding a few barbed comments that Emma was sure hadn't been scripted, and the majority of the ladies were released, with only the first few to be interviewed remaining on the stage.

Trying to run as surreptitiously as she could, Emma took off her high heels and padded through the backstage area, weaving in and out of chattering contestants and causing more than a few raised eyebrows as she slipped out again towards the cordoned off spectators' area. She wasn't the only lady in there talking to her coach at the last minute, but she was definitely the only one looking quite as frantic as she was.

"Did Billy get anything?" she asked.

Neal shook his head. "Not yet, he's still working on pulling CCTV footage but so much of this backstage area is dark, it's hard to piece it all together. We're going to need you to get back in there and give us a proper visual."

Gold wandered off unobtrusively to talk to one of the other coaches, leaving Neal and Emma free to conspire to their heart's content.

"You stay on Emerald," Neal said. "Cora's milling around a bit more out here so I'll take care of her. Just keep reporting in anything strange."

"Well..." Emma glanced over towards the stage, where Emerald was the next lady to be interviewed, her entrance being announced as she moved forward on the stage, smiling and waving happily as she took her seat beside Ella and Ursula. "I'll see what I can do. Everything about that woman is strange in some way."

"So, Miss Kansas," Ella began. "What do you think the government needs to do to help disadvantaged young people in this country?"

"Well, naturally, the government needs to give the disadvantaged more advantages," Emerald said sweetly. Ella glanced at Ursula, raising a perfectly painted eyebrow.

"Can you think of anything specific?" she pressed. "Anything at all?"

Emma pressed her hand against her face and let out a long sigh. "This is almost painful to listen to," she muttered. "If it wasn't for the fact I was already suspicious of her, I would seriously consider her to be too stupid to be any kind of criminal mastermind." Neal burst out laughing, much to the consternation of the other coaches and contestants in the area, and he gave a sheepish cough as several pairs of annoyed eyes turned on him, looking at his shoes and avoiding everyone's gaze.

_"Ok, Emerald's going to be moving in five,"_ Billy said through the earpiece. _"Eyes on the prize."_

"All right, Billy, we'll move out,” Neal said. “I've got visual on Cora but I can't follow her. Keeping you posted."

_"Copy."_

"Well, those were certainly some enlightening answers from Miss Kansas," Ursula was saying as Emerald waved and was ushered off the stage ready for the next interviewee to take her place. "I think it tells us slightly more about her than about the state of the country, but we'll move swiftly on. Our next contestant is Miss Alabama! Welcome!"

"I'm on the move." Emma left Neal in the coaches' area and made her way over to where Emerald was headed. As much as she hated to engage in conversation with the woman, it would be a good indicator of anything suspicious going on. She just had to time it right.

“Hey, Kansas!” she said brightly, going over to Emerald’s designated make-up area. “How do you think it went?”

“Oh, I think it went really well, thank you!” Emerald seemed just as happy to talk as she always was, betraying no unease at Emma’s sudden u-turn from hostility to overt friendliness. “Those questions are hard though, with only two minutes to answer? Are they expecting us to run for president or something?”

“Believe me I don’t think that the president could answer these kind of questions with no prep,” Emma said, flopping into the seat beside Emerald and hoping that Miss California didn’t come back any time soon. “It really gets you thinking on your feet, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s a tough one. Still, I think it went well. The questions are all so deep and meaningful, all about society’s problems.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Emma pressed. “We’re here because we feel strongly about these things and we want to make a difference in the world, use this platform to get our views heard. At least,” she added pointedly, “that’s why I’m here.”

“Oh yes, I know exactly what you mean,” Emerald said hastily, and Emma could tell that she was getting somewhat uncomfortable with the turn that the conversation had taken. “Of course, that’s so important.” She paused and peered around Emma towards the dressing room entrance; Emma looked idly over her shoulder but there was nothing to see there, just a couple of the other girls milling about.

_“Em, I’ve lost Cora, she’s come back into the dressing room, have you got eyes on her?”_

Emma could not reply, but looked into Emerald’s mirror and shook her head pointedly, hoping that the boys monitoring the feed could pick up on it.

“It’s such a shame that Cora’s retiring this year, isn’t it?” she said, to cover the action.

_“Neal we got a negative from Emma, no Cora in sight,”_ Lance said.

“Yes, especially after she’s done so much for the pageant,” Emerald enthused. “It’s such short notice as well; I think it was a snap decision and the network will be able to persuade her to come back.”

“Do you know why she decided to leave?” Emma asked, watching the room carefully in the mirror. Cora had just entered and she gave a slow nod.

_“Emma’s got visual,”_ Lance reported through the earpiece.

_“Copy.”_

Emerald shrugged. “I have no idea. I guess she just thought that it was time to move on.” She pushed back from her counter, standing abruptly. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to powder my nose.”

Emma gestured for her to leave and watched her move away in the mirror, keeping half an eye on Cora as well.

“Well, that’s the first time I’ve known Emerald be the one to make excuses and leave a conversation,” she muttered to the others. “Cora’s on the move too, I can only stick with one of them at once.”

_“Stick with Emerald,”_ Neal said. _“Cora knows you so you can’t afford to be caught tailing her.”_

“All right, I’m moving on out.”

_“Don’t forget your own interview, Em.”_

Emma snorted as she moved through the dressing room in the direction of the bathroom that Emerald had vanished into. “As if I could.”

Alabama and Arizona had come back into the dressing room and were installed pretty close by, so Emma made a little small talk with them whilst she waited for Emerald to emerge. She was taking a very long time in there and Emma wondered if perhaps she was straight-up hiding. She wouldn’t put it past her. It wouldn’t have been the first time that someone had hidden from her in a bathroom either, but not usually when she was undercover. She wished the other ladies good luck and moved away to talk to the guys.

“I think I’ve lost her, and Cora’s left the room too,” she reported. “I’m running out of time, they’ll be coming to get me soon.”

She made her way towards the stage entrance, and as she did so, she caught a glimpse of Emerald fleeing the bathroom out of the corner of her eye. How she’d known that Emma had given up her vigil was incomprehensible, but all the same, the bloodhound had her quarry now, and she wasn’t going to let her go. Carefully she picked her way back through the room and followed Emerald out into the night. The fire escape door was always left open so that the ladies could get some air if they needed, and it was far away from any prying eyes.

Cora was out there as well, and they were talking at the very far edge of the perimeter. Emma couldn’t see Cora’s face, but Emerald looked concerned, constantly looking back in the direction of the dressing room but thankfully her eyes never alighting on Emma, secreted away behind the door.

“Hey!” Killian called through the room from the stage entrance. “New York! Massachusetts! You’re up next!”

Emma suppressed her exclamation of frustration; just as she was getting somewhere she was going to be dragged away, and if she lost sight of them now then she might never get them back.

“Hey!” Killian yelled again. “Ass-and-two-tits, did you hear me?”

Emma gritted her teeth and ducked back into the room. Oh, if only he had been the one she had shot in the crotch yesterday. And if only it had been with her actual gun.

“Can I hurt him?” Mulan hissed as they made their way towards the stage.

“Only if I can too,” Emma muttered.

Mulan grinned at her. “You’re on.”

Ariel was making her way back down into the dressing room as Mulan and Emma reached the pass, and Killian made a grab for her bottom as she went past him. Ariel froze, her hands clenching into fists, and Emma saw the fury in Mulan’s face.

“All right, that does it, I am hurting the man, my chances in this competition be damned.”

“Right there with you.”

Emma strode over and without any pre-emption, grabbed Killian and pulled him down into a headlock as Mulan hitched up her dress and planted her point-toed shoe firmly between his legs.

“You lay a finger on any of these ladies again and I will cut your dick off and shove it so far up your own ass…” the feisty New Yorker began, but then a production runner had come down to see what was taking so long, and given a squeak of surprise on finding the rather unusual position that Killian was in.

“Help!” Killian choked.

Emma reluctantly let go of him and he staggered away, clutching his privates.

“You know, I’m not even going to ask,” the runner said faintly, shooing Mulan and Emma up towards the stage. The two ladies exchanged a high-five.

_“Are you sure she’s not FBI as well?”_ Billy said in Emma’s ear. He sounded slightly worried.

Emma just gave a snort of laughter and stepped forward into the limelight as her name was called.

“So, Miss Massachusetts,” Ella began smoothly, and for a second, Emma let herself have a little fangirl moment that she was actually on stage with these two famous ladies. Then the calm, serene mask of Emma Nolan, pageant contestant, slipped back into place and she listened to her first question. “First of all, what do you think can be done to reduce rates of recidivism in this country?”

Emma bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. Crime and punishment, she’d be good at this. At least, she ought to be good at this. Who knew if Emma Swan’s answer was meant to be the same as Emma Nolan’s?

Just be yourself, Neal had advised her. Very well, she would be herself.

“I think that more needs to be done to tackle the causes of recidivism in the first place,” she began warmly. “So often we only think of a cure, rather than prevention. People being released from custody in this country, especially young people, often don’t receive any kind of support for reintegrating into society once they leave prison. Most crimes are committed out of desperation, and we need to tackle the poverty and hardships that cause such desperation. A jail sentence is never going to act as a deterrent if someone goes straight back into the terrible circumstances that caused them to turn to crime in the first place. Once we understand why crimes are committed, we can work towards ensuring that they are not committed again. An increase in welfare will bring with it a decrease in recidivism.”

There was a huge round of applause, and Emma chanced to glance over at Ursula and Ella; they seemed to be genuinely impressed.  

“A wonderful answer, Miss Massachusetts, thank you. For your second question, a brief answer please, what is the one thing that American society needs most right now?”

Emma paused, myriad things going through her mind. Harsher punishments for sex offenders, jail time for corrupt politicians and business owners…

“Miss Massachusetts?” Ursula pressed.

“Hope,” Emma answered simply. “We all need to have hope.”

There was another roar from the audience, and Emma waved with a smile, moving gracefully away from the stage until she was out of sight and then rushing back down into the dressing room.

Emerald and Cora were nowhere to be seen.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me. I promise it ends happily!
> 
> Warning for this chapter: discussion of eating disorders.

**Eleven**

Belle felt like she was walking on air as she stepped off the stage. Being one of the last to be interviewed, there weren't as many people milling around, the other girls having gone back down into the dressing room, and she made her way quickly over to the coaches’ area where she had last seen Caine and Neal. Neal had gone, presumably to reconvene with Emma about her suspicions, but Caine was still there. Belle stopped when she saw him, taking a step back so that she could watch him unobserved, her brow furrowed as she saw who he was talking to. Cora was there with him, smiling in a cruel smirk, and Caine's mouth was set in a thin line, cane hooked into the crook of his elbow, arms folded. It was the firm expression he wore when he was trying to get things done, negotiating, dealing.

"You know that no-one asked you to take on a second contestant with competing interest, Gold," Cora was saying smoothly.

"Actually, they did. The FBI did, and you don't exactly turn someone down when it's a matter of national security," Caine replied. "I'm sure that you'd rather Miss Swan was a viable contender for your precious crown since she's fixed to get as far as she is, wouldn't you?"

"Of course, Gold, and don't think I'm not incredibly grateful for everything you've done," Cora said silkily. "But what you're asking for is not going to happen. I've already got one fix in the top ten, I won't have another. It's not my fault that you were the one the agents chose. Perhaps you shouldn't have quite such a sterling reputation for top ten contestants."

Belle's stomach gave a horrible lurch; she felt sick. Surely it was all a misunderstanding and Caine couldn't really be trying to do what she thought he was trying to do.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. What if my legitimate contestant misses out because my fix is already in place?" Caine said. His voice was low, dangerous. "How would my reputation suffer then?"

"Well, that's really none of my concern, Gold. You brought this all upon yourself." She leaned in close and Caine leaned back away from her face in such close proximity. Cora laughed.

"It's been a while since we were so close," she said. "How about it, for old times’ sake?"

"I'd rather castrate myself with a rusty spoon, dearie."

Cora just smirked. "It's my pageant, Gold, and I'm running it in my way. If it wasn't for the fact it would reflect badly on me if one of the girls gets blown up, I would have cut the FBI out and taken my chances with the death threats." She strode away in a whirl of expertly tailored magenta, not letting Caine get another word in. He scowled after her, not moving for a long time. Heart pounding in her chest, Belle stepped out of the shadows.

"What was that about?" she said, wishing that her voice wasn't quavering so much. "Please don't make me guess, because I really don't want to be right."

Caine turned to her sharply and she saw the colour drain out of his face.

"I... Belle... How long were you there for? How much did you hear?"

"Enough." Belle forced herself to keep her chin up. "Are you trying to fix me a place in the top ten?"

"Belle, I can explain."

"You'd better."

"I just don't want you to miss out! You've worked so hard to get here and I know you can make the top ten, and I would be devastated if you missed out because Emma's place is already fixed, and you would have had it if she hadn't been here!"

Belle nodded. "So you don't think I can make the top nine on my own."

"What? I never said that! I just said that I know you can make the top ten!"

"No! You're afraid that Emma's place should have gone to me! There are nine other places in that top ten, nine other legitimate places that I could get and if you're trying to fix it, then you obviously don't think I can get any of those nine! All this time you've been telling me I can get that crown but really you only think I'm tenth best, is that what you're saying?"

"No! That's not what I mean!" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know you can do it."

"So let me do it on my own!"

"I just want to be sure!" Caine exclaimed. "I don't know what other machinations might have gone on behind the scenes, the entire top ten could have been rigged for all I know."

"Then it's not going to make any difference, is it?" Belle felt her hands curling into the grab ready. She hadn't meant to raise her voice, but now she was too angry to care.

"I thought you'd be grateful!" Caine said. His posture was still closed in, defensive, and Belle knew that she was going to have a full-on argument on her hands. She'd never fought with Caine before. They'd had differences of opinion, but nothing like this.

"Grateful!" she exploded. "For what? Cheating? Making all my hard work utterly worthless?"

"For getting you closer to that bloody crown! Because that's what you want, really, isn't it? That's the entire reason you came to me."

For the first time, Belle could see all of Caine, seeing through the cool hardness of his reputation, past the defensive bluster he was putting up now, and through to the man who'd been betrayed so badly and was lashing out because of it, unable to accept the truth. She didn't like what she saw. Just last night he'd told her that she was nothing like Cora, and now here he was, putting her into the same category as that first catastrophic failure.

"Yes," Belle said, trying to keep a lid on her emotions, trying to make him see that there was so much more to it than that and she wasn't going to stoop to his level of biting anger, however much she might be feeling it. "Yes, that is why I came to you. Because you have an excellent reputation and you have worked wonders. But I didn't expect you to try and get me to the top ten by any means necessary. Is this how you've made so many successes? By bribery and deals?"

Caine shook his head, the lights catching the grey in his hair and making him look older than he was.

"No, Belle, this is not a common occurrence. But surely, when you came to me, there was something you wanted and if this gets you closer to what you want..."

"I WANT YOU!" Belle screamed. "I just want you! I'm not Cora! You said yourself last night I was nothing like Cora! Is that really what you think of me? That I'm just getting close to you to use you as a stepping stone? Is your opinion of me really that low? You've spent so much time building up my confidence and telling me I can conquer the world, but is this what you really think?"

"No, Belle, I don't, I just..."

"Then why are you going behind my back and doing this? Why are you so determined that this is what I want without consulting me?"

"Because this is what everyone wants!"

"I just want you," Belle repeated softly. "I wanted your help, but if this is how you help me, then I don't want it any more. Whether I finish first or fiftieth tomorrow, at least I know that I will have done it honestly on my own terms."

She turned to leave before she broke down completely.

"You know, when I first met you and we first started working together, I thought that the rumours about you couldn't possibly be true. But now I see that you really are as dark as people say."

Caine's eyes flashed dangerously. "Darker, dearie. Much darker."

Belle managed to wait until she was safely back in her hotel room before breaking down with a wail of anguish, that the moment they had shared the previous night had come to worse than nothing.

X

Emma hurried back to her hotel room. She'd lost Emerald in all the bustle and she didn't have the heart to try and find her again; it was highly unlikely that she'd try anything now, after the preliminary had finished, and security around the convention centre was tight in anticipation of the finale the next evening. There was nothing more on that score.

 _"Em,"_ Neal said in her ear, _"we've finally had the reports back from the Irish about Killian's record before his move over here; it's making for interesting reading. We should be able to move in on him tonight."_

"Great, do you want me to be there or not?"

_"No, we'll send another team in, we need you to stay on the ground in case something else happens. I'm still suspicious of Cora and Emerald although nothing's coming up against them. I'm worried, though, Em, Spencer's on his way down here and he's not impressed."_

"Great, give me something else to worry about, why don't you?" she muttered. "All right, I'm on it. I'm going to see what I can get out of the other girls about Emerald and Cora, they've all been around longer than I have and they might have picked up something that doesn't seem fishy to them but would ring alarm bells for us."

_"Ok, you do that. We're..."_

"Running out of time, yes, I know."

Emma reached her room just as Tiana poked her head around the door of her own.

"Emma, have you seen Belle at all since the prelim?" she said. "She just vanished after her interview; Elsa says she saw her running back into the hotel but no-one else has seen her."

Elsa peered around behind Tiana. "She looked really upset. Did she fluff her interview or something?"

"I don't know, I wasn't watching her," Emma admitted.

Tiana shook her head. "No, she was as strong as she's always been, her answers were really good. Maybe it's just nerves, or something unrelated."

"Right." Emma groaned internally, because she thought she knew what the something unrelated was.

She opened the door, and immediately found Belle. The other woman was curled up on her bed, still in her evening gown from her interview, sobbing into the pillow.

"Oh Belle..." Emma rushed into the room and went over to her friend, hands flapping about wildly. She knew she hated anyone touching her when she was upset, but Belle was a lot more tactile and would maybe appreciate a hug. She had so few female friends that being faced with one extremely unhappy one was a new experience for her, and she sank onto the bed beside Belle. "Oh Belle, what happened? Tiana says your interview went really well."

"I know," Belle managed, her crying finally quietening into a snuffle. "I thought so too, but then I went to see Caine and he was talking to Cora and..." She broke off to blow her nose and Emma gingerly put an arm around her. "I know he had a reputation but I'd got so convinced that it was just that, a reputation."

"Neal," Emma hissed through gritted teeth, "I don't know what your father's done but he's an asshole."

_"Oh, don't worry, I think I know what he's done. If I've got a moment I'll go and smack some sense into him."_

"If you don't, I will," Emma said. "He's made Belle cry." She paused before releasing her hold on Belle and going into the bathroom to get some more tissues. "Neal," she said once she was in there, her voice low, "I'm coming off comms. I have an idea to cheer Belle up and get some more information out of the other ladies but I don't think any of them will appreciate the FBI listening in."

_"Sure. Put your emergency cell on, we'll check in every thirty minutes."_

"Copy. Comms off now."

She pulled out her earpiece and unpinned the camera, putting them carefully in her purse and carrying a box of tissues through to Belle. The room door hadn't swung shut fully and Tiana and Elsa had ventured inside and were consoling her.

"Men suck," Elsa said vehemently; it was the most impassioned that Emma had ever heard her about anything.

"They do," Emma agreed, perching on the foot of the bed. "I think I know what we need. We need a lot of pizza, and a lot of beer, and we need it now. Who's with me?"

"I would kill for some pizza," Tiana agreed. "And I haven't had a beer in weeks." She hugged Belle. "Come on, get out of your gladrags and we'll go and find some comfort food, and we'll help you forget all about your awful man"

Belle nodded, drying her eyes and moving off the bed to go and change in the bathroom, a moment later the sound of the shower running permeated through the door.

Emma turned to the other young blonde sitting on the bed.  "You coming, Elsa?"

Elsa looked as if there was nothing she wanted more in the world than to say yes; her eyes had brightened visibly at the mention of pizza, but then her face fell.

"No, I'd better not. Ingrid will only make me throw it up later and I don't want to waste good pizza."

"What?" Tiana's eyes widened. "Why would she make you do that? That's... just wrong!"

"She's got me on this weird 500 calorie a day liquid only diet," Elsa said wistfully. "It's supposed to be really good for you." She didn't sound convinced. "All your daily nutrients in one glass."

"Sheesh, no wonder you keep fainting, woman!" Tiana exclaimed. "That's awful! When was the last time you ate solid food? And kept it down,” she added quickly.

"About two weeks ago," Elsa admitted.

"Right, you're definitely coming out and having pizza with us," Emma said.

"No, Ingrid'll kill me."

"Forget Ingrid," Tiana said firmly. "In order to be Miss Fairytale USA, you need to feel your best, and that will make you look your best. No fad diets or other dangerous eating habits. That's the whole point of the programme. It's not about your figure and being a skinny thin Miss World, it's about being your best self."

Emma nodded. "You would not believe the amount of doughnuts I got through in the run up to this." She paused, thinking of Gold's words to her when he had first begun her transformation, as little as she wanted to be thinking about Gold at that moment. "You have to do these things for you, not for anyone else."

Elsa nodded. "I know. I've been so worried about what Anna - my little sister - is going to think. She's already got the world's worst boyfriend, I don't want her getting worried about her weight as well."

"I have to say it, you haven't really looked happy since you've arrived," Emma said. "At first I thought that something was really, really wrong. And it is, in a way."

"It's not too late to drop out if you don't want to continue, if you're only here because of Ingrid," Tiana said gently. "I know that sounds like I'm trying to get rid of the competition but I'm not."

"No." Elsa shook her head. "I've got this far, and I'm damn well going to see it through to the end, for my sake if not hers." She paused. "Will you keep me safe from her tomorrow, though?" she asked, a slight pleading tone in her voice.

"Of course." Tiana grinned. "I'll stick to you like glue. So come on, where are we going to go out?"

"And how are we going to sneak past Cora and her cronies?" Elsa asked.

"Oh, the sneaking won't be a problem." Tiana and Emma exchanged a mischievous look. "I'll call the concierge, get him to recommend some not-too-classy places."

"We can't take Belle to somewhere not classy!" Elsa exclaimed. "She's the classiest of all of us!"

"Don't worry." Belle had come out of the bathroom in her yoga pants and hoodie, face free from make-up and hair damp and braided down her back. "I'm in the mood for some distinctly unclassiness tonight. I want to get as far away from all this as possible."

"All right. Get ready girls, we'll reconvene in the foyer in ten minutes."

Emma pulled on her trainers and padded out of the room, down the corridor towards reception to get a taxi ordered. Her cell rang as she was halfway there.

"Emma."

 _"Hi Massachusetts, this is your first check-in."_ It was Billy on the line. _"Neal's gone to talk to his dad, local office is getting a team ready to move in on Killian, should be there about 03:00, we're monitoring him now. Apparently you and Mulan did quite a number on him earlier."_

"Yeah..." Emma cringed, it was the paintball gun all over again.

_"Oh no, it's great. We're all really impressed."_

She smiled. "Ok. Billy, could you make a note for me? I want to look more into Ingrid Andersen."

_"Sure, you think she's a suspect?"_

"Not for our case, but I'm worried about a minor in her care, Anna Snow, and I want to follow up with the Alaska office once this is all over."

_"No probs, I'll forewarn them. Where are you?"_

"Still in the hotel, we're heading out now though. Nothing to report yet, hopefully at the next check in."

_"All right, keep us posted. We'll call again in thirty."_

"Copy."

Emma hung up. One puzzle was solved. If only it was the puzzle that they were actually there to solve.

X

"You made Belle cry. What the hell did you do?"

"Good evening to you too, Neal." Gold had answered the frantic summons of knuckles against wood and those had been his son's first words to him as he entered the room. He limped over to the dressing table and poured himself another whisky, which Neal swiftly removed from his hand. "Give that back!"

"Oh no, you don't get to drown your sorrows and wallow in self-pity. What happened?"

"She jumped to conclusions and started twisting all my words the wrong way," Gold snapped. "Every time I tried to explain, she got the wrong end of the stick."

"Ok, we'll come back to that; what was it that you did that needed explaining in the first place?"

Gold sighed. "It's all over now anyway, Neal, what does it matter?"

"It matters because you're both bloody miserable!" Neal exclaimed.

Gold succeeded in grabbing the tumbler of whisky and drained it.

"Dad! What's going on?"

"Don't you have terrorists to catch or whatever it is that you're here to do?" Gold asked.

"I can take a minute out of that to tell you that you're an idiot."

"Well, you've told me now, and believe me, I already know."

"Dad, just tell me what happened, for God's sake. This is the first real chance at happiness that you've had in way too long and I can't see you throw it away like you've thrown everything else away!"

Gold sighed and poured himself another finger, but he didn't drink this one, just swilling it around in the glass and staring at the amber liquid.

"I was trying to guarantee her a place in the final. Because Emma was guaranteed a place, I didn't want her to miss out."

"Dad!" Neal groaned, sinking down onto the bed opposite his father and burying his head in his hands. "Seriously?"

"She's worked so hard to get here, I didn't want her to miss out thanks to Emma. I thought she would be grateful."

"Grateful that all that hard work you praised becomes absolutely worthless? Or..." He trailed off. "Dad, don't tell me that you thought she was pulling a Cora and wanted to win by any means necessary up to and including pretending to like you."

Gold didn't reply, continuing to stare at the whisky.

"You're impossible, did you know that?" Neal said.

"You've told me so frequently," Gold replied sourly. "Now if you don't mind, I intend to get blind drunk and pass out, and you surely have work to do that is far more important than mine."

"Are you going to apologise to Belle?"

Gold snorted. “Miss French made it quite clear that she wanted nothing more to do with me."

"You see, this is what I'm talking about!" Neal exploded. "This is what I mean when I say you push people away and then expect them to fix everything! This is exactly it! You've hurt Belle horribly, you've pushed her away, and now you're not even going to apologise, you're going to sit here and wait for her to come grovelling back to you when you were the one to ruin it all!"

"She doesn't want to talk to me! I'm not going to force my presence on her if it's not wanted!" Gold threw back the whisky. "And I am not expecting anything of the sort. I am not expecting my and Miss French’s paths to cross again.”

Neal ran a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “How you managed to get this far in life is beyond me.”

Gold had to hand it to Neal that he was still there. Ordinarily his son would have stormed off by now, but something was keeping him sitting there in the room with him. He would admit that he was grateful, he knew how frenetic Neal’s life had been over the past couple of days of the pageant and he appreciated the time he was taking now. He drained the whisky but decided that pouring himself another one so soon was not a healthy idea and instead turned to his son.

“What if she still doesn’t want to talk to me?” he said. “What if I go and apologise and beg for her forgiveness but it doesn’t change anything?”

“Then you’re no worse off than you are now,” Neal said with a remarkable amount of patience and gentleness. “And at least you will have tried to make amends.”

Gold fell into silence. Not seeing Belle again because he had utterly screwed up was one thing, but not seeing her again because she had rejected him was quite another. The first seemed like a much safer option. No risk involved. It was all on his own terms and he could drown his sorrows alone in whisky for as long as he liked. Truth be told, Gold was scared.

Neal glanced at his watch.

“I’ve got to get back, my boss is coming. He saw Emma’s performance yesterday and decided to take matters into his own hands. But just think about what I said, yeah? Please, Dad. It’s a hard truth but you’re so damned blinkered all the time that you never see the obvious solution. You’re so obsessed with self-preservation that you don’t realise when you’re making things even worse for yourself.”

Neal got up and left, and Gold watched him go before leaning back in the dressing table chair and loosening his tie, grabbing the whisky bottle and taking a slug straight from it. It wasn’t just his own feelings he was taking into account here; Neal’s comments aside. He had to consider Belle’s point of view. True, one of the entire reasons he was in this mess in the first place was that he had made some pretty terrible assumptions on her part and not actually talked to her, but that was entirely beside the point. At least he thought it was. He wasn’t sure any more, the whisky was going to his head a bit. All the same, he couldn’t assume that she would want to hear an apology from him, so he was going to play it safe and give her a few days… weeks… months… years… to calm down. Once she’d had some time to get over the shock she might be more receptive to his entreaties.

Gold took another sip of whisky, savouring the burn at the back of his throat, and he glanced across in the mirror. God, he was a coward.


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

The bar they’d found wasn’t exactly the most salubrious of places, but it had a free booth in one corner and it was serving plenty of pizza and cheap beer, so it was at least fit for purpose. The four girls had squeezed in and were on their second pizza order, and Emma had lost count of the rounds.

“Pace yourself, honey,” Tiana said as Elsa grabbed another slice. “If you haven’t been eating normally for a fortnight all that dough’s going to hit your stomach like a ton of bricks and you’ll throw up without any assistance from Ingrid.”

“I know, I know, but it tastes so good!” Elsa moaned. Belle gave a small smile. Not really being a beer drinker, they’d set her up with the most elaborate cocktail that the bar had to offer and she was stirring it absent-mindedly. It was good to see her smiling again after her earlier tears, and Emma gave her an encouraging grin before going over to the bar to take her regular check-in call.

 _“Hey Massachusetts.”_ It was Neal this time _. “Nothing new to report; local team’s still getting ready to make a move on Killian. You?”_

“Nothing yet, but I think we’re warmed up enough that I can start asking a few surreptitious questions. Belle’s cheered up a bit and Elsa’s eating like she hasn’t seen food in two weeks. Which, she hasn’t really.”

 _“I’m not even going to ask,”_ Neal muttered. _“Ok, keep me posted.”_

“Did you talk to your dad?” Emma asked.

 _“Yeah.”_ Neal let out a long sigh. _“Not sure how much good it did, but I talked to him. He’s just so bloody-minded, always has been. Still, no more about him. Have a good time, but don’t forget what we’re here for.”_

“I won’t,” Emma assured him. She was already formulating a plan in her mind. “I know what I’m doing and I’ve only had one beer.”

Neal chuckled on the other end of the line. _“Yeah, it takes a hell of a lot more than that to get you pickled,”_ he said. _“You can drink half the guys back at the office under the table_.”

“Half? Please, Neal. Three-quarters at least.”

_“All right, three quarters. Don’t overdo it, yeah? You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”_

“Yeah. Speak to you in thirty.”

Emma hung up. She didn’t need reminding of her big day. The big day when it was all going to blow up in their faces if they couldn’t put some information together before then. For all they seemed to be going after Killian, Emma still wasn’t entirely convinced that he was acting alone. He was the link between the three of them, but there were still three of them. She ordered another beer and made her way back over to the other girls.

“What do you think Cora would say if she could see us now?” she asked.

“She’d probably have us hung, drawn and quartered,” Elsa said. “She’s got a stick up her bottom about something, I swear she’s not normally this vindictive. You’d think that she’d be extra happy and positive if it’s her retirement year.”

“Oh no, my dear.” Tiana’s eyes were bright and merry and somewhat conspiratorial. “This isn’t her retirement year. She’s been fired.”

“What?” Elsa exclaimed. “Well, I suppose that really explains a lot.”

“Yeah, the network decided to go for a younger model. I heard that when she found out what was happening and who was replacing her, she actually threw a chair at Regina!”

“At her own daughter? That’s horrible!” Belle protested.

“Well, she’s always had a bit of a vicious streak,” Elsa mused. “There are always all kinds of rumours passed around about what she got up to during her crowned year.”

Emma tucked that nugget of information away, meaning to ask Gold about it later.

“Yeah. Every year the same ‘did she or didn’t she sleep with one of the judges to get her crown?’ argument goes around.”

“Well, she definitely slept with her coach,” Belle said bitterly. She sucked up the last dregs of her cocktail and looked at the glass wistfully. “Can I get another one of these? It’s making me feel all numb and tingly.”

Emma laughed. “I think too much of that might be a bad thing,” she said. “You’re not really a drinker, are you?”

Belle shook her head, swaying a little. “But I like it!” she protested.

“Take it slow,” Emma advised. “We’ll get you another in a minute. So what other gossip is there about Cora?” she asked. “I haven’t been around all this as long as you three have.”

“Yeah, you’re a latecomer like Emerald,” Tiana said. “I’m not quite sure why she was so defensive on that first day at breakfast when she was a replacement just like you.”

“Really?” Emma tried not to look too interested, but her ears pricked up.

“Yeah, it was all very strange. Dorothy, the original girl from Kansas, had actually arrived in San Antonio ready for the pageant, but then she got this mysterious food poisoning bug and she had to pull out just a couple of days before the start. Then Emerald appeared out of the blue.”

“Weird,” Emma agreed. “Do you think maybe Emerald had a hand in that?” she asked.

Tiana shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t trust her around an unattended plate, that’s for sure.”

“It was highly convenient,” Elsa agreed. “And judging by her performance so far, I think we can see why she was only a runner up. If she makes top ten tomorrow then we’ll know something’s not right.”

Emma nodded. Somehow, she got the distinct impression that Emerald would be right there in that top ten with her. She looked around at the other ladies. Elsa, alive and enthusiastic and genuinely happy for the first time since she had arrived. Tiana, as laidback, practical and spunky as she had always been. Belle, still swaying a little bit and feeling jaded, but as sweet and friendly as they came. It would be a real shame if they didn’t progress through the competition with her. They all deserved the crown, although it could only go to one.

“What about you?” Elsa asked. “You were a pretty sudden replacement too. Is Ashley really, you know…”

Emma nodded, it couldn’t hurt to talk about that particular part of her cover now.

“Yeah, she was going to come, she’s not too far along yet, but her people said that it would be awkward if she won and had to do her year of duty, it would be impossible to hide, so she decided not to take that chance. So the Massachusetts sash came to me instead.”

“Well, you’ve worn it very well,” Tiana said, before lifting her glass in a toast. “To all of us. May we all find ourselves in the top ten tomorrow, and no matter who wears that crown, may we all remain friends throughout it.”

“To us,” the other girls echoed, before Belle flopped down against Emma’s arm.

“All right, I think we’d better get this one back to the hotel,” she said with a laugh.

“’m alright!” Belle protested feebly. “Just need to close my eyes for a minute. The room’s spinning a bit.”

“You are such a lightweight,” Tiana observed fondly. “Come on, let’s get you sobered up.”

They were halfway back to the hotel when Emma’s phone rang again, and she transferred the meandering Belle over to Elsa so that she could take the call. It wasn’t check in time yet, and her brow furrowed as she answered.

“Hello?”

 _“Em, it’s Lance,”_ The man sounded not exactly panicked, but somewhat frazzled. “ _They’ve got Killian, Spencer’s arrived, and they want to shut us down, they think it’s all over.”_

“What? No!” Emma hissed, glancing back over her shoulder at the others, hoping that she wasn’t drawing too much attention to herself or that they were all too tipsy to care. “No, that’s no good, I’ve got a lead on Cora and Emerald now!”

 _“How quickly can you get here?”_ Lance asked. _“Spencer’s basically wanting us to pack our bags and head home as soon as possible.”_

“Buy me half an hour,” Emma pleaded. “Please. I can’t get away without looking suspicious just yet, my roommate’s drunk as a skunk off two bellinis.”

 _“I’ll see what I can do.”_ Lance didn’t sound incredibly sure of himself, and Emma ran back over to join the others. They didn’t make any mention of the frequent phone calls she was receiving and just helped her get Belle back into her room and into bed. As soon as Elsa and Tiana were ensconced back in their own room and Belle was safely asleep on her side with the bathroom bin beside her bed should she require it, Emma raced out of the room and down the corridors to where the FBI had their temporary office.

Spencer was waiting for her expectantly, Neal was rubbing the bridge of his nose, evidently at the end of his tether, and the other two were packing up their equipment.

“Agent Swan, how nice of you to join us,” Spencer said.

“I had to maintain my cover, Sir,” Emma replied levelly, refusing to be cowed when there was so much on the line.

“Well, luckily you won’t need to maintain it any longer,” Spencer said. “We’ve made an arrest and have ample evidence to put Mr Jones away for a very long time. He was discovered with enough C4 in his guardianship to level most of San Antonio, so we’re putting this one to bed.”

“Sir, I don’t think it’s as simple as that,” Emma pressed. “I still think we have reason to monitor Emerald West and Cora Mills.”

“Yes, because Ms Mills is really going to blow up her own pageant,” Spencer remarked. “Swan, we’ve got the guy. This is where it ends.”

“I respectfully disagree, Sir. Cora and Killian and Emerald have all been in cahoots with each other over the past couple of days, and Cora has motive; she’s been fired from the pageant which she did not tell us, to be replaced with her daughter, and Tiana says she has a history of violent behaviour, especially against Regina. Not to mention that Emerald West is a last minute replacement for a lady who mysteriously got food poisoning two days before the pageant.”

Spencer just looked at her.

“Have you been drinking, Agent Swan?”

“Yes, Sir, but I am still in full possession of all my faculties. Sir.”

“Swan, I am having serious doubts about that. If Cora and Emerald are somehow in a league with Killian, why was he the only one we caught with the explosives?”

“I have reason to believe that they’re using him as a fall guy,” Emma said. “Killian is new to Cora’s employ this year, she fired an assistant who had been with her for many years for no discernible reason and replaced her with… Well, you’ve seen the kind of man he is for yourself.”

“Indeed I have. He’s had a long and illustrious record with the Irish police under the pseudonym ‘Hook’ as part of a highly organised crime unit called the Lost Boys in Dublin. I know exactly what kind of man he is, which is why, considering the unimpeachable records of your other two suspects, I am closing this operation down.”

“Sir, I still believe that these young women are in danger.”

Spencer gave a heavy sigh and turned to Neal.

“Cassidy, do we have any evidence to put suspicion on either of these women?”

Neal was silent for a long time, his eyes flickering between Emma and Spencer, before he finally replied: “No.”

“Neal!” Emma exclaimed. “Neal, you’ve been as wary as I have of them both from the start!”

“I know, but we have no evidence, Em!” He turned to Spencer. “May I have a moment with Agent Swan alone, Sir?”

Spencer indicated the hotel room door. “Be my guest, but be aware that unless you come up with an incredibly good reason why our continued presence here is required, I will not be changing my mind.”

The two agents left the hotel room.

“Neal!” Emma yelped as soon as the door had swung closed behind them. “You’ve got to back me up on this! You said you trusted my instincts, so you have to trust them now! Emerald and Cora are planning something together and Killian was taken on deliberately to have a scapegoat so that their own records remained clean! Please! You know I’m right.”

Neal nodded. “I know you’re right. I don’t doubt you for a second. You know that I never doubt your suspicions, but Em, _we have no proof_ , and we really can’t stay here without any grounds, you know that as well as I do. It’s more than our jobs are worth. Besides, just last night you couldn’t wait to get out of here, and this is your chance. I know how stressed this is making you.”

Emma shook her head. “I know, but I’d rather be stressed and uncomfortable than see any one of these ladies harmed in any way. I just can’t let that happen Neal, I’d never live with myself if I did.”

Neal gave a sad sigh. “I know. Neither would I. But sometimes, Emma, you have to accept that there are battles that you are going to lose.”

“Not this one,” Emma said. “I know the FBI has no reason to remain, not now that they’ve got Killian. But I don’t have to stay here in an official capacity.”

“Emma, please, don’t do it.”

But Emma was already going to the badge and gun strapped around her right shin.

“I know you trust my hunches, and right now I really trust them too. But I don’t want you getting fired because of my decisions and my instincts,” Emma said. “I’m going on alone. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing I’d want more than for you to come with me, but I can understand why you don’t want to, and I don’t hold it against you. But this is something that I have to do, Neal. I can’t just give up and ignore the warning signs.”

Neal gave a weak smile. “Well, you know what you’re doing better than any of us do,” he said. “You know these people more than we ever could.”

“I need to check on Belle,” Emma said. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

“With no gun and no jurisdiction,” Neal pointed out, but there was admiration in his voice, not admonishment.

“If that’s what it takes to bring these people to justice.”

“All right. Good luck, Em.”

Emma lingered for a moment, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on him like they always did in the movies when the hero and heroine were about to be separated and face impossible odds. In the end she just nodded, and raced back down the corridor towards her own room.

Neal gave a long sigh. Part of him knew that she was right and the impulsive part of him wanted to take off and join her, but he knew that he couldn’t. Emma was the wild card on this operation and given her current standing with Spencer, she could afford to run off like that. Neal knew that he couldn’t, not without giving Spencer something concrete to go off. If Emma was going to do anything, she would need proper FBI back up, which Neal couldn’t give her if he was also off the books.

All he could do was work off the latest information she had gleaned and try to find an official reason to stay in the limited time that they had.

X

Emma slept in late, having spent most of the night tossing and turning before finally falling into a fitful sleep. Belle was already gone when she finally surfaced, a note tucked into the top of a covered plate telling her roommate that she had gone for a walk to clear her head and she was feeling fine, but with a bit of a fuzzy headache, and to enjoy brunch. Emma looked at her watch; it was coming up for two in the afternoon, and she sat down heavily on the end of the bed. Emma had spent a lot of her life on her own, but she didn’t think that she had ever felt more alone than she did at that moment. With no-one working on anything in the background, she knew that whatever she saw she had to follow up on, and she couldn’t be everywhere at once. All she had were instincts that had served her both very well and very badly in the past.

Time was ticking on and she still hadn’t made a move. If Cora and Emerald were planning anything, they would be moving quickly now with Killian out of the way. It was only a few short hours before the curtain went up on the finale, and now that she no longer had the protection of her badge, she couldn’t just nose about anywhere she pleased. She was restricted to being a competitor, because in essence that was all she was. She couldn’t go and poke about backstage or in the auditorium because she wasn’t meant to be there, and she didn’t even have the excuse of late night practising with Gold.

Gold! She could ask for his help; he knew Cora better than anyone, he would know what to do. Grabbing her keycard and make-up bag, she rushed round the hotel to his room, almost tripping over Misses Arkansas and Rhode Island on the way.

“Gold!” she called, knocking frantically on the door. “Gold! Please let me in, I need to talk to you, you need to beautify me, I’m completely on my own now.”

The door opened and Emma raced into the room, stopping dead on seeing Gold’s suitcase packed and ready to go.

“You’re leaving?” she exclaimed. “You can’t! How am I going to get through the finale without you? I need you more than ever!”

Gold shook his head. His eyes were red-rimmed and he hadn’t shaved; it looked like he’d been on one hell of a bender the previous evening.

“Miss Swan, I can safely say that there is nothing left that I can teach you,” he said, and he smiled wanly, hands coming almost to her face but not quite touching her, respecting her boundaries. “I am so very proud of all that you have achieved in our short time together, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that you are deserving of your place in the top ten.”

Emma was touched by his words, but the warm sentiment inside her that they inspired was fast overtaken by both anger and blind panic.

“But what about Belle!” she exclaimed. “You can’t just leave Belle in the lurch like this!”

“Miss French is more than capable of taking care of herself now,” Gold said quietly. “Like you, there is nothing more that I can do for her.”

“Moral support?” Emma suggested, not quite able to believe that he was leaving them at this crucial stage; after all the work they had all put in he wasn’t even going to stick around to see the end results.

Gold gave a cynical snort. “Right now I think that I am the last person that Miss French would want to see supporting her,” he muttered. “My son has been kind enough to offer me a ride back to Storybrooke with the FBI, and I don’t want to miss my flight.”

“Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening! I need you, Gold! I still have to get through the theme round, whatever that is, do I even have a themewear dress?”

“Of course.” Gold gave a shadow of his customary smirk, and he went into the closet, taking out a black garment bag and carefully hanging it on the back of the door. “Every lady who passes through my coaching for the Miss Fairytale pageant gets a handmade themewear dress.”

Emma opened the garment bag and slipped the cover off the hanger, looking at the dress within.

“Oh Gold…”

“It has a side zip, so you won’t need to get anyone to help you put it on,” he said. “I apologise that there is no tiara. You would have had one custom-made, but it was too short notice for the jeweller I use.”

It was a pure white confection in satin with delicate beading and feathers trimming the mermaid skirt and cowl neckline, and a pair of gossamer wings stiffened with wire and tied on with ribbon.

“Your theme is the Swan Princess,” Gold said. “I thought it fitting.”

“God, Gold, did you make this? It’s beautiful. When did you have time?”

“I already told you that I don’t sleep much. But now I really must go. Enjoy your time in the spotlight, my dear. You have earned every moment of it.”

“You don’t want to see your handiwork in action? Mine and Belle’s?”

“I’d love to, but sometimes these things are not to be. Good luck, Miss Swan.”

With that he was gone, dragging his suitcase out of the room and leaving Emma alone with her dress. She sat staring at it for a moment, before checking her watch and giving a yelp of alarm. Time was running out and she still had so much to get done; not to mention getting ready for the finale. She was going to need all the help she could get, and she only hoped that she could rely on the goodwill of the other ladies to be her backup where Gold and the FBI could not be.

X

Neal kept looking back in the direction of the hotel as they loaded their equipment into the plane ready for the journey back to the bureau, with a quick diversion to Storybrooke to drop off his dad. Neal wasn’t at all surprised that Gold was sticking to his usual way of doing things and had not approached Belle, but given the amount of alcohol both had imbibed the previous evening perhaps that was for the best. He was still annoyed that Gold had taken them up on the offer of a ride back home instead of trying to patch things up with his coachee, but he tried to remember Granny Lucas’s words and take them to heart. Leopards couldn’t change their spots overnight, and at least come the end of the week, Belle and Gold would both be back in the same town so all hope was not entirely lost.

“I ran another check on Cora,” Billy was saying as they lugged the final crates up the plane’s steps. “I know how much you want to find something, but there’s really nothing there. To all intents and purposes she’s clean as Persil. Ex-beauty queen, pageant organiser, philanthropist, widowed with one daughter, nothing suspicious in the husband’s death.”

“Two daughters, actually.” Gold came up behind them with his suitcase, sunglasses on to hide the effects of his whisky binge the night before. “Although not many people know about the first one.”

“Go on,” Neal said, wondering which of sod’s laws meant that they were only finding out this very important piece of information when they were about to leave.

“A couple of years before she met and married Henry Xavier, Cora Mills had a daughter whom she gave up for adoption. Zelena. It was all hushed up at the time, naturally she couldn’t afford for any kind of scandal to tarnish her reputation as the perfect Miss Fairytale princess.”

“How do you know all this?” Billy asked.

“I know because I was there.”

The FBI agents all looked at Gold in stunned silence.

“Something you want to share with me, Dad?” Neal asked.

“Good God, I wasn’t the father!” Gold said hastily, slightly affronted by the suggestion in his son’s voice. “No, I was the one covering for her in the nine months after she’d been crowned, thinking up all kinds of wonderful excuses for her non-appearance at events once Zelena-to-be became too noticeable.”

“What happened to Zelena?” Neal asked.

“She vanished off the grid for a while, I didn’t keep up with her whereabouts. I had more important things to do.”

“Yes, but where is she now?” Neal pressed. “Has she had any contact with her mother, is there anything there we can go on? Billy, get the stuff unpacked, we need to run a trace on Zelena Mills.”

“On it, boss.” Billy was already opening up his laptop, sitting on the bottom step of the plane.

“Cassidy, Mouse, what are you doing?” Spencer was leaning out of the plane door. “We’re due to take off!”

“We’ve just had a new lead in the case, Sir,” Neal called up to him. “We’re following it up before it’s too late.” He turned back to his father. “Dad! Where’s Zelena now?”

Gold nodded back in the direction of the conference centre where they just come from.

“She’s right in there. She changed her name to Emerald West and decided to follow in her mother and sister’s footsteps.”

Neal looked from Billy to Spencer to Gold and back again.

“Why didn’t you tell us this before?!” he exploded.

“I didn’t know what you were looking for, did I?” Gold retorted. “All I knew was that you had an agent undercover at the pageant, you never said why, or that you suspected Cora!”

Neal nodded, he would have to forgive his father for that one.

“Come on, Billy, Dad,” he said. “We have to get back there. I think Zelena and Mommy are working together.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

Emma rushed into the dressing room, juggling dress carriers and make-up bags and hairbrushes. She’d never been so unprepared for anything in her life before, despite Gold’s assurances that she could do this on her own.

“Emma?” Belle came over, already dressed in her flowing Lady Liberty outfit ready for their dramatic entrance onto the stage. “Emma, are you ok, sweetie? We were looking all over for you.”

“Yeah, overslept, got lost and confused and…” She threw herself down into her place beside Rory, who peered around the partition.

“You need a hand there, Massachusetts?” she asked, taking in Emma’s make-up free face and messy ponytail.

“I’m ok, I’m ok,” Emma said, hoping that if she could repeat it often enough it would be true. She emptied the make-up bag out onto the counter and rummaged through the contents. “Oh God, which of these comes first? Where’s the lipstick? Is that it?”

“Emma, stop.” Belle’s voice was firm. “Stop panicking. We can do this, it’s not too late. Tiana! Elsa! Mulan!” she yelled across the room. “Anyone else who’s ready, we’ve got an emergency!”

She indicated for Emma to turn in her chair and picked up the primer, dabbing some onto Emma’s eyelids as the other girls bustled around her, pouncing with hairbrushes and gel and mascara wands. For a moment it felt like she was back in Gold’s workroom in Storybrooke. At least she knew that no-one was going to be after her teeth this time.

“All right, all right, coming through, make way.”

All the ladies in the room turned as Gold rushed in, as fast as his cane could take him.

“Mr Gold?” Tiana hedged.

“I heard there was a last minute crisis,” he said as he reached them, and some of the other girls scattered back to their own stations. Belle, Tiana, and Elsa bravely stood their ground as Gold lowered his sunglasses, peering at Emma blearily over the top of them. “Well, let’s not just stand here, let’s get this show on the road!”

He grabbed the curling tongs from the counter and Tiana handed him one of the two hairbrushes she was holding.

“Miss French, Miss Snow, face please. Miss Grenouille, please source me some bobby pins.”

The mutterings in the dressing room that had started as a whisper when Gold had first entered became ever louder as people realised that Maine’s coach was now suddenly making over Massachusetts. More than a few scandalised looks were shot in their direction, but Belle’s scowl saw all of them scurrying back to their own business.

“Neal’s here,” Gold muttered in her ear as he pinned her hair back from her face. “He can’t come in here but he’s up in the wings, he’ll explain everything in a minute. Agent Mouse is setting up his miniature crime lab at the back of the auditorium. All in all it would be very exciting if my head didn’t hurt quite as much as it did.”

Emma just nodded mutely as the others did her hair and make-up. Neal and Gold and Billy had raced back to help her. Had they discovered something else, or had Neal just decided to throw the rulebook out of the window and go rogue with her?

“All right, you’re done, just the dress and headdress,” Gold said, straightening and leaning against the counter heavily. “Excellent work, ladies, I think that’s a record.”

Elsa dabbed a final touch of mascara onto her lashes and grinned, giving her a thumbs up. Ingrid was nowhere to be seen in the dressing room, so either the FBI had really got their act together off her tip, or Tiana had been so effective in making sure that Elsa wasn’t left alone with her coach that Ingrid had just given up. It was great to see her so happy now, and Emma felt her own confidence buoyed a little. She was in the top ten. Bar falling on her face she didn’t need to worry about anything to do with her own performance. All she had to do was make sure that she prevented a tragedy.

She went to get changed as the other ladies finished their own preparations and started to be ushered out onto the stage, where the runners were getting them into the correct order and up the stairs that Emma had spent so long practising walking down. Cora was standing in the wings, snapping at every runner who went past to get her water, or aspirin, or some other demand, and lamenting the fact that Killian was nowhere to be seen. Emma had to give a satisfied snort at that statement; Killian would not be seen anywhere for a long time yet. She caught sight of Neal in the wings talking to one of the runners, and she gave him a little wave.

 _I’ll explain everything in a sec_ , he mouthed, motioning for her to get up the stairs. Once more she was out of comms with him, but at least she knew that her backup was here and she was no longer alone in her quest to take down Cora.

The music began playing and Emma stepped out onto the stage, a perfect, tranquil Lady Liberty, queen of America and inspiration to young women everywhere. As long as she didn’t fall on her face or go in completely the wrong direction during the short dance routine that followed. All the while she kept glancing into the wings at Gold and Neal. A small part of her wondered how Belle was holding up, with Gold having rushed all the way back to the convention centre not for her, but for Emma. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, she really didn’t have time to think about those things when the moment of truth was coming ever closer. There were so many places around the stage and wings that an explosive could have been hidden, and she and Neal wouldn’t have time to check them all.

Dancing over, the ladies took their positions on the stage, and the pyrotechnics going off made Emma jump, fearing that they were too late already.

“And now your hosts for the evening,” the TV host announced. “Ella Furrier and Ursula Tempest, with the director of Miss Fairytale USA, Cora Mills!”

The two hosts were looking amazing, Ursula in a floor length dress completely covered with shiny green sequins, and Ella in her trademark fur stole. She had assured everyone that it was fake, God forbid she give a bad impression to the easily influenced souls watching, but Emma knew better. Ella lived for fur and made no secret of the fact.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and viewers at home, welcome to the grand finale of the forty-third annual Miss Fairytale USA pageant!” Ursula began. “Tonight, you’re in for a magical evening of talent, wit, poise and beauty.”

“And as well as Ursula there are also these fifty wonderful ladies,” Ella added, garnering her a raucous laugh from the audience. “So, without further ado, let’s announce the contestants who have reached the final ten, based on their scores in the preliminary rounds held during the week.”

A runner handed Cora the famous golden envelope and she opened it at a speed that would have made a snail seem like a champion sprinter.

“Our first finalist is… Florida!”

“New Mexico!”

“Louisiana!”

Emma applauded even more vigorously as Tiana made her way down to the front of the stage, smiling widely and hugging Ariel and the contestant from New Mexico whom Emma had not had chance to meet.

“Washington!”

Rory looked slightly stunned as she took her place at the front. Idly Emma wondered when they would call her name out, and how shocked she would have to act to be convincing.

“New York!”

Mulan just gave a fist pump and a wicked grin, so perhaps shocked wasn’t the only way forward. She certainly had the confidence to be assured of her being in the final, so more power to her.

“Alaska!”

Well, that was one in the eye for Ingrid, at least, although Elsa did still look a bit like she was going to throw up at any moment. Maybe it was a delayed reaction from all the pizza last night.

“Massachusetts!”

Crunch time. Emma gratefully accepted the congratulations of the ladies either side of her and made her way down to join the other finalists, smiling as broadly as she could. Only three more ladies remained, and Emma crossed her fingers behind her back, praying that Belle would be joining her at the front.

“Kansas!”

Emma turned to see Emerald’s reaction; and in that moment, she knew that the red-head’s entry into the top ten had been as assured as her own was. On the face of it, it looked as if she was about to burst into tears and was flapping her hands around in front of her face wildly, but there was a cool, triumphant gleam in her eyes that was at odds with the rest of her histrionics. Oh yes, she had known that she was guaranteed a place among these final ten, and it made Emma’s stomach turn. If she was here because she was seeking to protect these young ladies, why was Emerald here?

“Hawaii!” Ella announced. Nani raced down towards them and threw her arms around Tiana and Mulan.

One place left, and Emma kept her fingers crossed. The few seconds she had to wait for the announcement seemed like a lifetime.

“And our last finalist, last but by no means least… Maine!”

Emma breathed a huge sigh of relief, and turned to wrap Belle in a hug as her friend made her way down towards them. The little brunette was smiling graciously, but there was a sadness in her eyes. Emma wondered if it was Gold’s reappearance that had caused it.

“And there we have it. We’ll be back after the commercial break with some exquisite entertainment from all fifty ladies, including tonight’s talent competition with our ten finalists. Stay tuned, folks!”

As the programme went to commercial, there was a flurry of activity on the stage, and Emma rushed off as fast as she could in her spindly heels to go and find Neal in the wings.

“That way,” Gold said, pointing her around the back of the stage as she came over to him, and pressing the hanger with her talent outfit into her hands. He was still wearing his sunglasses and looked entirely ridiculous, but Emma got the distinct impression he was only leaving them on to make the rest of the girls laugh. She kicked off her shoes, shouting an apology over her shoulder as Ariel almost tripped over them, and went to find Neal.

Gold gathered up the sandals and straightened just in time to find himself face to face with Belle, the last lady to come off the stage. He pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead in order to look at her properly.

“Congratulations,” he said. “You’ve done so well, Miss French.”

“Yeah.” Belle shrugged her shoulders with a melancholy air. “It doesn’t exactly feel like much of an achievement though, knowing it was fixed.”

“It wasn’t fixed,” Gold said.

Belle just gave him a look, part indignant but mostly just tired. “I heard you talking to Cora.”

“Then you also heard her telling me in no uncertain terms to take my proposal and shove it,” Gold said. “Your success today has been entirely on your own merit, Belle. I promise you.”

Belle gave a small smile and a satisfied nod.

“Thank you.”

It was now or never. Gold took a deep breath.

“Belle, I am so sorry for my words last night. What I insinuated was, well, disgusting and beneath me. I like to think I know you, and I know you well enough to know that you are exactly who you say you are, with no hidden agenda. I do know that, but I guess I just panicked. I couldn’t believe that someone as young and talented and passionate as you are could be interested in, well, me.”

Belle’s smile grew a little, and she reached out to cup Gold’s stubbly cheek.

“I find it incomprehensible that a man who is so amazing at building up other people’s self-esteem has such low self-worth of his own,” she murmured. “Not every woman is another Cora,” she said, pulling away.

“I know. You are most definitely not, and I am so sorry for even entertaining the notion that you might be. And if you never want to speak to me again, I completely understand.”

Belle shook her head.

“I would miss you too much never to speak to you again,” she said. “But maybe now isn’t the best time to begin this.”

Gold nodded. “You’re right, of course, you’re absolutely right, we need to wait, cool off…”

“It’s not that,” Belle said with a laugh, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. “But I’ve got to go and get changed and stretch and get my ribbons ready.”

Gold smiled against her finger.

“We’ll reconvene at Granny’s on Monday?” he said, voice soft and hopeful. “Once this is all over?”

Belle smiled as she moved away to get ready for her talent act.

“I would like that very much, Caine.”

Gold moved back out of the wings as the runners began to set the stage ready for the talent competition. All hope was not lost.

X

“Ok, hit me,” Emma said. She had tracked down Neal to the back of the stage, where he was scanning around, looking for anything that might be suspicious.

“First things first.” He handed her back her badge and gun and earpiece. “Welcome back on the team,” he said with a grin. Emma rolled her eyes and replaced her earpiece, putting the badge and gun to one side, and Neal turned around to let her get changed, but kept on talking to her.

“Dad gave us an important bit of information about Emerald,” he said. “She’s not actually Emerald West. Her name’s Zelena Mills and she’s Cora’s illegitimate daughter.”

“What?” Emma exclaimed.

“Born of a liaison between Cora and one of the judges at her crowning pageant,” Neal said dryly. “Billy looked up Zelena’s records, she’s had a couple of warnings for stalking Regina Mills but no legal action was taken. Turns out Cora’s lawyers got it all sorted out on the down low. She’s been obsessed with the pageant, Cora and Regina for years, and then she suddenly vanished, became Emerald West, and turned up here.”

“I’m sure she was rigged to get into the top ten,” Emma said. “Ok, I’m decent.”

Neal turned back to face her and continued to explain excitedly.

“I am too,” he said. “Because it turns out that Zelena and Mom have been having several little chats over the last couple of days, not just the one that you witnessed at the interviews last night. Billy and Lance pulled off all the CCTV footage from outside Cora’s office; Zelena’s been a regular visitor.”

“So Cora offered an olive branch to her estranged daughter in the shape of motherly love and a chance to get revenge on the sister she’s been jealous of all her life, meanwhile Cora gets an ally in her plans to target her own pageant to get back at the network for firing her and replacing her with her prettier daughter.”

“Precisely,” Neal concluded with a grin which rapidly faded. “Now all we have to do is find Emerald and Cora and more importantly, find that bomb.”

“Emma!”

Gold appeared at the space that led to the wings and waved to her frantically, and they made their way over to him.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to go it alone for that part,” Emma said. “I’ve got to go and not shoot anyone. At least it will be fairly easy to keep an eye on Emerald. Cora will be harder, her part in the pageant is finished now until the crowning.”

Neal nodded. “I’ll take care of Cora,” he said.

“I’m quite happy not to let Miss West out of my sight,” Gold said mildly.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Any time. Now, Belle’s about to perform and you’re on next.”

Emma looked around at the props ready to go on stage for when they were needed and wheeled round to Gold.

“Gold, where’s my gun? I know it was here a minute ago!”

“I…” Gold pushed his sunglasses up onto his head and looked around, but then Emma spotted it.

“Hey!” she yelled, taking off through the gathered groups of women to the two security guards who were bearing her paintball gun away. “Hey! You can’t take that, it’s my talent! Hey!”

There was nothing to be done, however, they were already taking it out of the dressing room towards the security office and Emma gave a howl of frustration as Gold and Neal came up behind her.

“Now what am I supposed to do?” she asked. “Some idiot stole my talent and I’m no good at anything else! What else can I do, Neal? Apart from fit seven coconut prawns in my mouth at once?”

“Roundhouse kick me in the face?” Neal suggested.

“Neal!”

“I am actually being serious,” he said. “Maybe not the roundhouse kick. You’re an agent. You know self-defence.”

“That’s not a talent, it’s an essential life skill!” Emma exploded.

“So, you can still show it off. Come on, I’ll be your attacker. It’s five minutes and we’ve got Dad keeping an eye on our suspects.”

“Forgive me for not being entirely filled with confidence,” Emma muttered.

“You are forgiven,” Gold said lightly. “Now whatever you do, do it quickly.”

Emma looked at Neal, then at Gold, then over to the entrance to the stage.

“All right. Let’s go.”

The two made their way towards the stage. Belle was still performing, leaping and spinning and twirling with her ribbons, and Emma was awestruck watching the way she moved with such precision and grace, lithe and flexible and at one with her equipment. She was looking truly happy again, and Emma was glad to see her smiling. There was no doubt that she deserved her place in the top ten, unlike Emerald’s mediocre efforts, and Emma began to panic for a moment about what everyone would think of her own offering.

She told herself firmly that it didn’t matter, that she was an FBI agent and here to do her duty. That was what she had been telling herself ever since she had first started on this venture and she wasn’t about to let the old self-esteem issues get her down now, when she was so close to the end.

Belle finished her set and dropped into a low curtsey to a huge round of applause, and she gave Emma a wide smile and a high five as she left the stage. Emma took a deep breath before moving on, standing awkwardly in the middle of the stage and looking out towards the audience, who were watching her expectantly. A few murmurs ran around the auditorium; people were either wondering what on earth she was about to do since she was very obviously not doing her shooting act, or remembering what had happened at her first talent performance.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Emma began, “as you know from the programme, I’m supposed to be impressing you all with my marksmanship, unfortunately after events earlier in the week, the TV crew decided that the insurance liability was too high and they’re not allowing me a gun anymore. However, I do have another skill that I would like to demonstrate to you all this evening. It’s sad in this day and age that these skills are required, but I think that every young woman needs to know how to defend herself, and that’s what I intend to show you all tonight. So, without further ado, please welcome my glamorous assistant, Neal… Nealson!”

Neal sauntered onto the stage and gave a bow.

“Nealson?” he hissed as he went over to Emma, raising a hand towards her that she grabbed and blocked, twisting his arm up.

“I’m improvising!” Emma replied under her breath, voice indignant, before addressing the crowd. “If you want to disarm a person who has pulled a weapon on you, remember to always go for the outside of the arm, so your body comes out of the firing line. Now, assuming your attacker is unarmed, there’s a very simple manoeuvre you can do to outrun them.” She motioned for Neal to come at her and he took a step forward before she smacked the heel of her hand up into his face. The audience gasped, and she could make out a few whistles and cheers in among the shock at the violence. “Break his nose!”

Neal gingerly checked his nose and Emma winced in sympathy. _Sorry_ , she mouthed.

“I’m beginning to regret suggesting this,” Neal muttered. “Alright, I’m coming at you from behind, please be gentle on the jewels, ok?”

Emma nodded and turned her back, addressing the audience again.

“If your attacker comes at you from behind, you have no forewarning of their intentions so you’ll likely only be able to react once they’ve grabbed you. Just don’t panic, and make them SING.”

She felt Neal grab her and went through the movements almost on instinct, only just remembering to call out as she did so: “Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin!”

Neal gave an honest to god squeal as she planted her elbow between his legs as gently as she could whilst still being convincing.

“Worse than a paintball?” she asked as he straightened up, his eyes tearing. Neal nodded.

“Definitely,” he choked. “All right, that’s enough talent. I don’t think I can take any more punishment.”

Emma nodded and turned back to the audience.

“So, I hope that this has proved practical as well as entertaining, and please give a big round of applause to the wonderful and battered Neal!”

The crowd burst out into a vociferous roar, and Emma rushed off the stage to allow Rory and her tuba to take her place.

“All right, let’s find Cora,” she said.

“No,” Gold said. “Themewear dress first, then you can find Cora.”

“Gold! This is a matter of life and death!”

“I’m well aware of that, but as far as anyone else is concerned you’re still Emma Nolan, science major from Boston in the final ten of the Miss Fairytale USA pageant. Themewear. Now.”

“I’ll find Cora,” Neal said. “You focus on the stage.”

He slipped away through the gathering crowds of ladies; none of them seemed to question his presence, but there were several whispers going around the dressing room. Emma ignored all the pointed looks that were being sent in her direction and grabbed her white themewear dress in its carrier, going into the bathroom to change.

Gold settled himself in the chair at Emma’s place in the dressing room, taking out the things he would need to retouch her hair and make-up and complete her transformation. Emerald wasn’t showing any signs of suspicious activity; he’d been keeping an eye on her ever since Emma and Neal had informed him of their plans.

“Caine?”

Belle’s voice was soft and tentative, and Gold turned to see her standing behind him in her golden ballgown, one arm pressed tightly over her breasts keeping it up and the other hand holding the delicate golden tiara that matched it and would sit neatly over her hairstyle, now unpinned from its severe gymnastics bun.

“Will you lace me, please?” she asked, turning her back, and Gold set to working the ribbons. He had done this so many times over the last couple of weeks as he made the dress for her, and every time he’d had to stop himself from letting his fingers linger on the soft skin of her shoulders.

“All done,” he said, and she turned, giving him a brilliant smile and holding up the tiara.

“Do the honours?” she asked.

He carefully adjusted it over her hair and stepped aside to let her look at herself in the mirror. Belle scrutinised her appearance carefully before giving a satisfied nod.

“Perfect,” she said.

“Oh wow, Belle, you look amazing!” Emma had returned wearing her own gown, the light, feathery wings fluttering behind her.

“So do you. Do you need any help with your hair or anything?”

“No, I think Gold’s got me covered.”

“You go and get into position,” Gold agreed. “From what I can hear, Miss Washington has just finished so they’ll be getting the other ladies on soon, and then it’s you.”

Belle nodded, and went up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Gold’s cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. “For everything.”

“You’re very welcome. Now go and enjoy the moment, and get into that top five for me.”

Belle gave him her most beautiful, most natural grin. “I intend to.”

She swept away and Emma sat down in the chair that Gold had just vacated, letting him rebrush her hair out of its pigtails and set it so that it tumbled over one shoulder. She kept an eye on Emerald out of the corner of her eye, but the other woman wasn’t moving, just sitting in her ridiculously frilly pink ballgown and waiting for her call.

“I hate to sound rude, but that’s really not the best colour for a red-head,” Emma muttered as Gold checked her make-up, getting her to bare her teeth for lipstick stains.

“Oh, don’t worry, I agree.” Ariel shuffled over in a tight jade green gown with a long flair like a mermaid’s tail, the beading fading into iridescent purple over the bodice. “Little Mermaid,” she explained. “No mistaking you for the Swan Princess,” she observed, reaching out to touch the soft feathers on her wings. “I think she’s going for Glinda the Good,” Ariel added dryly with a nod to Emerald. “I suppose it would have taken too long to paint her green, although it’s more accurate.”

Emma gave a snort of laughter and Gold rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. The runners were shepherding all the ladies towards the stage, but there was a commotion at the end of the dressing room.

“Sir, please, really, you can’t come in here!”

“But I’ve got an urgent delivery!” a man could be heard protesting, before he hollered: “GOLD! ARE YOU IN THERE?”

Gold’s jaw hit the floor then he composed himself with a roll of his shoulders.

“Stay there,” he said to Emma before quickly making his way towards the runners at the dressing room door. “It’s all right, he’s with me.”

The man was allowed in and the pair rushed back to Emma. The new arrival certainly looked strange enough to cause a stir of his own right; he was wearing a cravat, pocket watch and top hat, and was carrying a small hat box in one hand.

“Gold, never, ever say that I don’t do anything for you. You owe me one. Big time. Grace is getting an entire wardrobe of princess outfits this Christmas.”

“Jefferson, you are a miracle worker and I will keep your daughter in dressing up clothes for as long as she wants them,” Gold said, taking the hatbox from him and pulling the other man into a hug. It was a strange enough occurrence for the normally cool and aloof Gold that everyone still left in the dressing room stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

“Well, get it out, then. I delivered it by hand on time and everything!”

Gold opened the hatbox and took out a tiara in white gold, with creamy pearls forming a pair of stylised swan wings curling up in the centre.

“Oh Jefferson, it’s beautiful,” Emma said.

Jefferson gave a little salute. “I aim to please, madam. Now, Gold, do you think you can sneak me in to watch? I’ve always wanted to see my creations live.”

“All right, since you’re here anyway. Emma, I wish you the very best of luck. You are absolutely radiant tonight.”

Emma nodded, keeping her eyes on Emerald as they were herded towards the stage and put into position.

 _“Em, I’ve lost Cora,”_ Neal said. _“I’m going to focus on finding that bomb. Billy’s on camera duty, he’s trying to find her.”_

“Copy,” Emma muttered, her gaze glued on the vision in pink as the ten finalists began their themewear walk. Emma was the last to go onto the stage, and she was grateful for the scoping out that it allowed her to do. As long as Emerald was on the stage or in the wings, then she couldn’t be doing anything dangerous, and Emma could try to work out where the explosives might be hidden.

“Massachusetts, go,” the runner behind her with a headset said, indicating for her to move out onto the back of the stage and make her slow walk down to the front. Emma curtseyed low as she had seen Belle do earlier, showing off the glittering wings and almost losing her lovely tiara. The ten finalists were at the front of the stage, and the other forty ladies behind them on the steps to watch the reveal of the final five.

“I swear that every year the costumes just get more and more beautiful,” Ursula sighed wistfully as she addressed the audience and Ella held out a hand for the golden envelope of truth. “Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come to announce the final five contestants of the Miss Fairytale USA pageant! These five ladies have been chosen based on the combined scores from their first two preliminaries as well as their performance in tonight’s talent segment and themewear walk.”

“Our first finalist is… Louisiana!”

Tiana took a second to get over the shock before moving forward in her pale chartreuse gown, its shape reminiscent of a water lily, and Emma heard the voiceover spiel playing in the background.

_“Tiana Grenouille is a budding restauranteur and loves everything culinary. When she’s not cooking, baking her trademark beignets, or creating new recipes, she is actively involved in nature preservation projects on the Bayou river, being particularly concerned about the indigenous frogs.”_

Our second finalist is… Maine!”

_“A double major in English and journalism, Belle French’s life revolves around the written word. She currently works as a librarian and enjoys hosting school book clubs and reading to the elderly in her spare time, as well as going for long walks through the Maine woodlands.”_

Emma staggered slightly as Belle threw her arms around her before moving off to stand with Tiana. She had to give a little giggle at the spiel, but knowing Belle and Tiana, it was probably all true.

Ella cleared her throat as she continued.

“Our third finalist is… Florida!”

_“A science major specialising in marine biology, Ariel de la Mer is a tireless campaigner against the illegal whaling industry and is writing her thesis on safer fishing methods. Her hobbies include swimming, surfing and scuba diving wherever she can.”_

Emma crossed her fingers, hoping against hope that Elsa would make it to the top five. Tiana and Belle were both safely through, and it would be such a shame if the other close friend she had made missed out now, after defying expectations and really coming into her own just in time for the finale.

“Our fourth finalist is… Alaska!”

_“Elsa Snow is an art student, sculpture being her speciality. When she’s not volunteering in art therapy sessions, in her spare time she enjoys ice-skating, snowball fights with her sister, and eating as much Italian food as she can find.”_

Elsa was positively glowing, her turquoise gown sparkling every which way as she made her way towards the front of the stage. Just one place left. For all her faults, Emma hoped that it would go to Emerald, as that meant she had to spend more time on stage and less time conspiring with Cora and they wouldn’t need to worry about keeping track of her.

“Our fifth finalist is… Massachusetts!”

Emma blinked. Surely that couldn’t be right. She’d only been rigged to get to the top ten, not this far into the proceedings.

_“Emma Nolan is an animal-loving science major in training to be a veterinarian. She is a regular guide-dog puppy sponsor and her hobbies include horse-riding, aqua aerobics and going on picnics with her friends.”_

Emma gave a snort of laughter at the ridiculous falsehoods, but was still rooted to the spot.

“Emma,” Rory said encouragingly beside her. “It’s you, Em. Go on.”

Not quite trusting herself on the high shoes, Emma stepped forward, waved distractedly to the audience, unable to wipe the shocked expression off her face, and went over to the other four finalists, who all enveloped her in a hug. It was rather claustrophobic with so much glitter, beading and sequins all around. How on earth had she managed that? Evidently beating up Neal must have impressed the judges more than she’d expected. In the back of her mind, something told her that unfortunately, the situation with Emerald was now reversed: the redhead was free to come and go as she pleased whilst Emma would be stuck on the stage.

“Well done, Emma!” Belle said. “That’s so amazing, you’ve done so well!”

“So have you,” Emma finally managed to say.

 _“Well done, Em,”_ Neal said in her ear, and Emma forced a small smile onto her face.

“All right!” one of the runners yelled. “We’re on a commercial break, finalists on stage for the interview please!”

“One sec,” Emma said, galvanised into action once more, and she ran towards the bathroom. “Neal,” she continued once she was inside alone, “I’m out of action, I can’t keep eyes on Emerald or Cora if I’m on stage.”

 _“Don’t worry, we’ll keep it covered,”_ Neal said. _“Cora’s in her office, I just can’t get round there right now. I have Dad keeping an eye on Zelena. Emerald. Whatever her name is.”_

Emma took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror over the sink, trying to put the calm mask of a fairytale princess back into place before she made her way back to the stage.

“Emma?” Rory asked. “Are you ok, hun? You’re really pale.”

“Yeah, just… nerves, you know.” It was true, Emma was terrified, but not of the task that now awaited her on the stage. She took her seat and crossed her ankles as Gold had taught her, and waited for the moment of truth. Neal was hunting down the bomb and Cora, Gold was keeping an eye on Emerald. All she had to do was focus on not breaking her cover at this crucial stage. She didn’t really listen to the answers that the others were giving to their interview questions and looked around the stage and the auditorium, trying not to look like she was obviously distracted.

“Miss Massachusetts,” Ella began. “There are some people who believe that the Miss Fairytale USA pageant is outdated, anti-feminist, and sends a negative image to young girls. What would you say to those people?”

Emma took a deep breath.

“I would say that I used to be exactly like them,” she said. “Before a good friend persuaded me to join this programme, I too thought that it was simply just another beauty pageant, focussed entirely on looks and no substance and achieving the perfect bikini body. But now that I’ve come here, I can see that’s simply not true. This pageant is all to do with being the very best you can be, to make you feel good for your own benefit, not for anyone else’s.” She spoke warmly as she remembered Gold and Belle and Neal’s words to her over the course of the last week. “It’s about showing off to the world what a princess should be like: real and genuine and caring, for its own sake, rather than to fill a preconceived role for someone else. I’ve made so many wonderful new friends whilst I’ve been here, and these ladies are all so kind and passionate, and they just want to make a difference in the world. If that’s a bad message to be giving out to the younger generation, well, I don’t want to be a good role model.”

The applause she received was roaring.

“Thank you, Miss Massachusetts,” Ursula said, but before she could announce the commercial break, Emma spoke again.

“And I just want to say to anyone out there who might harm or threaten to harm any of the wonderful ladies in this room tonight, that if you hurt any of them, I will come after you, I will find you, and I will hurt you in return.”

There was stony silence until Ella began clapping.

“And that was it for our final interviews, we’ll be right back after a short commercial break,” she said before giving Emma a wink and grinning. Well, at least one person didn’t mind if she caused a stir.

The ladies were ushered off the stage so that they could reset for the final segment.

“Final commercial break, people!” the runners called. Emma rushed back down into the dressing room and searched frantically for Cora and Emerald. Emerald was at her usual place, chatting happily to Miss California, who was looking as if she wanted to claw her own eyes out, and a group of ladies had clustered around Regina, who was standing at the entrance to the stage wearing her own sash and crown and holding a suspiciously empty satin cushion.

“Regina, where’s the crown?” Ariel was asking. “I wanted to touch it for good luck!”

“Oh, it’s ok, Mama – Cora – took it away to get a bit more polish on it; she said something about it being the highlight of the evening and needing to shine like a firework. It’ll be here in time for the crowning, don’t worry. Someone’s just gone to get it from her office.”

 _“Em, I’ve got Cora,”_ Neal said. _“She’s up round the back of the stage, just came out through the dressing room, I’m moving in now.”_

“It’s the crown!” Emma hissed to him. “The bomb is in the crown!”

_“What was that, Em? Too much feedback.”_

“Ladies, places please!” the runners yelled. “We’re live in one minute!”

There was a great deal of hustle and bustle as the fifty contestants all moved up from the dressing room onto the stage, with Emma and the other four finalists lined up at the front. Ursula and Ella were already there with the envelope of truth; Ella was gargling with a clear fluid that most definitely was not water, and Emma wondered if she could ask for a shot herself.

“No Cora?” Ursula was asking. “Oh well, we’ll just have to do it without her.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Neal’s silhouette, moving behind the stage and up towards the set piece where Cora was presumably hiding ready to take out the pageant winner once they were crowned. Well, she had said on that first morning that she wanted to go out with a bang. She just had to trust Neal to get to her in time.

Neal could see Cora’s sneaky vantage point from the bottom of the set piece steps and he drew his gun, creeping up behind her.

“Freeze, FBI!” he hissed as the music that signalled the end of the commercial break began to play. Down below them on the stage, Ursula was beginning to speak, announcing that the time had come to find out who had won the coveted crown that Regina was gliding regally onto the stage holding out. “Put down anything you’re holding and put your hands on your head.”

Cora did as she was told, and Neal holstered his gun before cuffing her. The older woman was smirking, even though she’d been caught, and Neal didn’t like that expression in the slightest.

Down on the stage, Emma looked up at the set piece; the silhouette had vanished and she crossed her fingers, hoping that Neal was in place.

“The fourth runner-up is… Alaska!”

Elsa gave a wave, looking ecstatic just to have made it to the final five, and moved to the back of the stage with the other ladies. High above, Neal pulled Cora to her feet and began to move her away from her vantage point.

“It’s too late,” Cora said mildly. “You’ve done very well in getting me, but you see, I don’t have the detonator.”

Neal’s blood ran cold. She’d been the decoy, and she must have dropped the detonator off with Emerald on her way through the dressing room.

“The third runner-up is… Massachusetts!”

“Don’t take the crown!” Emma hissed in Belle’s ear before she moved away.

“What?” Belle whispered, cupping her ear against the noise from the applause and the cheering in the auditorium.

“The crown!” Emma gestured to her head, but Belle just shrugged, and Emma had to move away before security intervened and dragged her off the stage.

“The second runner-up is… Florida!”

Ariel gave a good-natured wave to the crowd and joined them at the back.

“Our first runner-up, who will take the place of our winner if she is unable to perform her duties during her crowned year, is… Maine!”

Belle and Tiana hugged tightly, and Emma saw Belle whisper something in Tiana’s ear, but the other woman just shrugged as Belle moved away.

“What did you say?” she asked Emma as she came up beside her.

“The crown!” Emma said, watching helplessly as Regina carried over the crown on its cushion, and Ella placed the winner’s sash over Tiana’s shoulder. “The crown is a bomb!”

“What?” Belle exclaimed.

 _“Em! Zelena has the detonator!”_ Neal yelled in her ear, making her wince against the feedback. She glanced over at Emerald, standing quietly at the other end of the stage, hands clasped in front of her. At the front, Tiana was wearing the crown, walking out on the runway towards the audience…

“Miss Fairytale USA 2016, Miss Louisiana, Tiana Grenouille!”

It was a split second decision. Go after Emerald and get the detonator off her, or go after Tiana and get the crown off her.

“Get Emerald!” she said to Belle, before charging forward, shaking off the hands of the other girls and the hosts trying to pull her back, and catching up to Tiana.

Belle wasted no time in following Emma’s instructions, taking advantage of the confusion the blonde had caused to hare across the stage and crash tackle Emerald to the floor with a roar. She saw the little black remote fly out of her hand as she landed, but then Emerald was fighting back, clawing at her and finally pushing her off, scrabbling for the remote. Belle landed heavily on her back, winded, and then a security guard was pulling her up and away from the red-head.

“Let go of me!” She struggled, trying to remember Emma’s impromptu tutorial, but it was to no avail, and she was hauled away off the stage.

At the front of the stage, Emma knew that it was not going to be possible to tell Tiana what was going on in time.

“The crown!” she yelled over the audience and the pyrotechnics. “Take off the crown!”

“Huh?”

Tiana turned to her, and Emma yanked the crown off her head.

“Woah, what do you think you’re doing?” Tiana yelped.

Emma elbowed the security guard who’d come to grab her in the groin with her full force before flinging the crown as far away from her towards the Lady Liberty sculpture as she could.

The explosion was one of the more impressive ones that Emma had seen in her time, and several of the ladies standing below the sculpture screamed, fleeing from the stage as debris rained down on them.

As the ringing in her ears from the explosion died down, Emma heard that the auditorium had fallen into shocked silence, broken only by the shriek of feedback as Ella’s microphone dropped out of her hand.

Beside her, Tiana was staring up at the ruined setpiece, splintered wood and metal still falling down onto the stage with earsplitting crashes.

“Well, that’s something you don’t see every day,” she murmured.


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

To say that the San Antonio convention centre was in a state of controlled chaos would be putting it mildly. There were police cruisers and ambulances parked up everywhere, and there were paparazzi and reporters in any available space that wasn’t being used by the emergency services. Ella and Ursula were being interviewed by one of the entertainment channels and Ella was, Emma felt, grossly exaggerating the drama of the proceedings. Although, maybe to a spectator it had seemed a lot more dramatic than it had felt to her at the time. For Emma it had just been nerve-wracking.

“Are we ready to run the gauntlet?” Neal asked. Emma nodded, and they left the convention centre to the flashes of cameras and the buzzing chatter of the journalists thrusting microphones at them. Emma had Cora and Neal was pulling Emerald along. For all her appearance of being sweetness, light and a little bit dim in the head, Zelena Mills, as she had now been revealed to be, was an extremely feisty young woman when she wanted to be, and she was fighting against Neal every step of the way, screaming for a lawyer and justice and to be let go of, with every second word out of her mouth some kind of curse.

“Some princess,” Neal said through gritted teeth as he got her down the steps and they made their way towards the waiting police cars. He sidestepped to avoid a wildly kicking foot, and the local deputy looked slightly scared as he opened the car door for the FBI agent.

“You won’t get away with this!” Zelena was screaming.

“Oh Zelena, do shut up,” Cora snapped. At least she was coming quietly, for all of her snarling and ferocious expressions to the journalists. Emma put her into the police car and Cora gave her a pleading look.

“Miss Swan,” she said. “Please. Look at you, so lovely compared to the train wreck you were before.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “You know, you’re really not going out of your way to get me on your side,” she pointed out.

“I did that,” Cora wheedled. “My pageant did that.”

“No,” Emma said, disgusted. “Mr Gold did that. Neal did that. A team of highly trained federal manicurists did that. _I_ did that.” She paused and glanced over to Neal, who had finally succeeded in getting Zelena into the other car. The redhead was now headbutting the window in a vain attempt to get someone to pay attention to her screamed ramblings. “Besides. I don’t look any different.”

Neal smiled and came over to her, peering in to look at Cora.

“Ms Mills, I think it’s safe to say that you and your daughter are going to be going away for a long time,” he said conversationally. “Please enjoy running the Miss Fairytale Correctional Facility pageant. I’m sure there are plenty of princesses just itching for you to get there.”

Cora narrowed his eyes at him. “I put twenty years of my life into that pageant and for what? To be fired and replaced by my own daughter? If it’s remorse you’re looking for, Mr Cassidy, you’re going to be looking for a while.” She looked over Neal’s shoulder to see Gold standing there, watching the proceedings calmly over the top of his sunglasses. Why he still hadn’t taken them off despite it being full dark outside, Emma couldn’t fathom, but she would admit that he looked so nonchalant she didn’t mind the eccentricity.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Cora snarled at him.

“I’ve not been enjoying the knowledge that my ladies were almost splattered across the convention centre,” Gold replied. “But there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that justice has been served, yes. I do wonder what Regina is going to make of all this,” he added, voice matter-of-fact as he glanced over his shoulder to where Regina was talking to one of the deputies, wrapped up in a shock blanket and shaken but unharmed.

Emma turned back to Cora.

“You almost blew up your own daughter,” Emma said coolly.

“Well, she wouldn’t have looked quite so pretty then, would she?” Cora growled, and for the first time when faced with a suspect, Emma blanched.

“You’re disgusting,” she hissed, slamming the door shut and tapping the back window to send the cruiser on its way. She sighed, turning to Neal.

“I’m glad that’s over,” she said with a sigh. “Here, help me take these wings off, would you? I look like a right idiot, an FBI agent wearing wings.”

“Still an FBI agent, though,” Neal said, untying the ribbons that held her wings on and pulling them off her, handing them to Gold who bore them away. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going to take them, since the backstage area was now off limits as the crime scene investigators did their thing, so he just tucked them under his arm, looking around for Belle and Jefferson, and anyone else whom he knew and wanted to be assured of their safety.

“Caine?”

Belle was coming over to him, wrapped in a shock blanket but smiling. Gold made his way across the plaza to her as quickly as he could.

“Are you all right?” he asked, looking her over for injury; Belle just laughed.

“I’m absolutely fine. You?”

“I’m all right, although I will say that the explosion has done absolutely nothing for my headache.” He paused. “Congratulations, Belle. You have done so well and come so far.”

Belle nodded. “Thank you. And thank you for all your hard work that made it possible.” She glanced back over her shoulder to where Tiana and the other finalists were giving their statements to the police. “Tiana’s ok, still a bit shocked, but she’s a practical sort, a good head on her shoulders. She’ll be fine.”

“It’s you I’m worried about,” Gold pointed out. “Not that I’m not extremely glad that Miss Grenouille is unharmed for her ordeal.”

“There’s no need to worry on my behalf,” Belle said. She paused. “There really is no need for you to step in on my behalf,” she said. “But next time you feel the need to, please just talk to me first. You and I both know that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Gold nodded. “I’m so sorry, Belle.”

“It’s ok, I know.” She paused. “I’m still angry and I still need a little bit of time to get my head around it all. Tonight’s drama hasn’t exactly helped on that score and I’m not sure last night’s bellinis did either. But… Monday. Granny’s. Like you said. Seven o’clock. I’ll see you then, and we can start afresh.”

Gold nodded. “I’ll be there.”

Belle would be there too, he knew it. He trusted her, and he was going to do his utmost to show her that she could trust him now. She had left, but she wasn’t gone forever, and he thought that he could see a bright future ahead of them as she made her way back over to the other girls, exchanging hugs and generally giving thanks that they were all still alive and well despite everything that had happened. If he had not come back, then these first steps towards reconciliation would never have been taken.

Neal was right. Having a little courage had paid off in the end.

X

“You ok?” Neal asked, seeing the goose pimples on Emma’s bare arms. She nodded and Neal raised an eyebrow. Damn him, he could always tell when there was something wrong, it was an uncanny ability of his. He shrugged off his jacket and gave it to her.

“Thanks.” Emma sighed. “It’s so weird thinking that everything goes back to normal now. This is just another end of another operation. We’ll go back to the office tomorrow and Spencer will yell at us and it will be like nothing’s changed.”

“Do you think something has changed?” Neal asked. Emma might have been imagining it, but she thought that there was a hopeful tone in his voice.

“Well, you said yourself that I didn’t look any different.” She paused. “I think something has changed. I feel different. What was it that Gold said, back at the studio?”

“Bolder,” Neal said. “He said that you looked bolder.”

Emma nodded. “I feel bolder. It’s strange, all this has made me take a good long look at myself.”

“It’s made me take a good long look at you too,” Neal said. Emma gave a snort of laughter.

“Oh yeah, and do you like what you see?”

“I always have. I’ve always known that the real Emma was hiding in there somewhere, but now you’ve really shown her off.”

Emma smiled. “Well, you did say for me just to be myself.”

“Yes. And you have been. To great effect. And I’m very honoured to have seen that transformation.”

They fell into that easy, companionable silence, and Emma found herself leaning in to Neal’s side. She was not a person who liked to be touched, but in the moment it felt right. Neal had been her rock throughout the entire pageant and before, and she felt like she needed that support he offered. Not because she was weak herself, but because he made her even stronger than she already was, and it was nice not to have to rely on oneself all the time.

“Neal,” she began presently, “what’s going to happen now? About, well, us? Because I think something has changed, you know.” She thought about all the encouragement he had given her. About how the Miss Fairytale pageant was about showing off her inner beauty on the outside, and how Neal had not seen a difference, and so that meant he must have seen her inner beauty all along, even when she had been determined to hide it away. “I think… I think I’ve let you in.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Neal asked hesitantly.

Emma didn’t know. It was a terrifying thought, the idea that she had managed to let someone get so close to her vulnerabilities. But the fact that she had done it unconsciously was an encouraging one. It showed that she was comfortable around Neal and didn’t mind if he got close to those sore spots, because she trusted him not to hurt her. He had never hurt her before. Never let her down yet.

“I don’t think so,” Emma said. “I guess time will tell. We just have to, you know, let it.”

Neal nodded. “I can live with that, Massachusetts.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You’re going to keep calling me that, aren’t you?”

“Of course. But here, I got you something.” He waved over at someone across the plaza, and a few seconds later, Billy joined them, holding out a coffee cup and a greasy paper bag. “I apologise for the lack of doughnuts on Thursday evening, but I made sure that you had some today.”

“Neal, you’re… I don’t even know how to describe you,” Emma said, taking the cup and bag from Billy and letting him go back to where he was talking to the local cops, telling them everything that he had been doing during the evening’s entertainment.

“Amazing, wonderful, charming?” Neal suggested. “I’ll settle for just ‘really good at sourcing doughnuts’, though.”

“Oh, shut up,” Emma muttered, hooking her arms around his neck as her hands were occupied, and leaning in to slant her mouth over his, brave and bold and a little bit scared, but open to the idea that maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, and maybe, just maybe, she could and would be loved.

X

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Go away.” Emma shoved her head under her pillow on hearing Neal’s voice. “Besides, I’m the Swan Princess, not Sleeping Beauty. That’s Aurora’s role.”

Finally she emerged from under the covers and looked at her partner blearily. “All right, all right, I’m up. What’s going on? Why are you here? How did you get in here in the first place?”

“Well, having an FBI badge does help out in situations like these.” Neal smirked. “Come on, up and at ‘em. We’re heading out soon.”

“Ugh, five more minutes. I had a dramatic night last night, I need a rest.”

“Hey, my night was no less dramatic than yours, and I got beaten up on live TV,” Neal said. “If I can be up then you can be up too.”

Emma gave him a look. “You know, just because we’ve agreed to date doesn’t mean that I can’t really not like you sometimes.”

Neal grinned. “I know. Now come on, it’s almost time to leave.”

He got up from his position crouched at the side of her bed and waved as he left the room; Emma hauled herself out of bed and grabbed her clothes; her normal, FBI working clothes. There was no need to keep up the pretence now that the tragedy she was undercover to prevent had indeed been prevented. She wondered whether she’d be able to get out without anyone seeing her; she didn’t really want anyone to question her about what she’d been doing at the pageant. At the same time though, it would be a shame not to be able to say goodbye to the good friends that she had made over the week, especially Belle. She looked around the room; Belle’s bed was made neatly and neither the woman nor her luggage were anywhere to be seen. It made the room seem somewhat bleak and desolate, and it would be a shame if she was unable to say goodbye. The two women had spoken briefly last night when Emma had finally made it back to their room after debriefing with Neal and Billy and all the local police, but both had been too drained to hold a proper conversation.

Emma shook herself, threw all her belongings haphazardly into her bag and manhandled her suitcase out of the room, going to meet Neal in the hotel foyer.

“That’s my Emma,” he said, taking in her standard suit pants and slightly crumpled shirt. “Not that you don’t look amazing in your evening gowns, but you always look better when you’re comfy.”

Emma smiled. “Yeah. Although the heels really do something good for my posture. As much as I hate to admit it, your dad has a point with some things.”

“Oh I know he does. Just don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Let me hear you say what?”

Gold came up behind them, thankfully minus his sunglasses this morning and looking his usual immaculately put together self. Behind him, Belle was leaning out of the breakfast room door in her state sash, her arms folded.

“Honestly,” she said, shaking her head in disapproval. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“I, well, my job’s done,” Emma said helplessly. “I’m not really a contestant.”

Belle rolled her eyes.

“You’re a contestant in the other contestants’ eyes,” she said. “And your job as a contestant is not over, even if your job as an FBI agent is.”

Gold held out a hand.

“Come, my dear. Your podium awaits.”

“Really?” Emma made a face.

“I did tell you that you had earned your place in the limelight. Now enjoy it.”

Emma looked back over her shoulder at Neal, who was wearing a satisfied little smirk.

“Did you know about this?” she accused.

“Have I ever let you down?” Neal pressed. Emma just narrowed her eyes at him, before taking Gold’s hand and letting him lead her into the breakfast room.

The forty-eight other ladies all stood as she entered, cheering and applauding, and Emma wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run straight back out again. But Belle was beside her, encouraging her up the aisle in the centre of the room to where Tiana was stood on the dais, non-conflagrative crown and winner’s sash on, and a huge bouquet in her arms.

“Come on, honey,” she said, beckoning her up onto the stage. “Ladies, I give you Agent Emma Swan, or as we will all remember her, the coolest girl at the pageant, Emma Nolan, Miss Fairytale USA 2016’s Miss Congeniality!”

Belle skipped up onto the dais beside her and draped the sash over her shoulder before giving her a hug that almost sent her flying. For someone so tiny, Belle put a hell of a lot of force into her hugs.

“Oh my God,” Emma murmured as Tiana took a step back to let her have the microphone. “Well, I think the office might have something to say about this,” she said, fingering the sash. “I just want to say thank you all so much. What I said at the pageant last night in my interview holds completely true. You are all such lovely, passionate ladies, and it’s been an honour to compete alongside you. So, if you ever need someone on your paintball team, you know where to find me!”

Emma looked to the back of the room as the applause grew again, watching Neal and his father. Gold was looking proud, and Neal…

Well, Neal was looking like Neal had always looked, a wide grin on his face and a fond expression in his eyes.

_Never change, Em_ , he mouthed to her.

Emma grinned. She had no intention of doing so.


End file.
